Khai
by bonkersfm
Summary: Apology to those who read ch6-10 to find errors. I uploaded wrong docs and couldnt get back into account Mulder and Scully accept a stranger into their home, unaware of the impact she will have on their lives FEEDBACK RELISHED
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1 **

**Friday 12th**

He loved Fridays. Well, Friday nights anyway, and in particular this one. For Fox Mulder, the week had started slowly enough, pouring over the first draft of his latest work, paying careful attention to minor amendments that Carter, his editor, had suggested. He'd spent all of Monday morning rewriting the same sentence, the pressure he'd exerted on the keys becoming heavier with each restart. The phone call from Skinner had seemed like a gift from heaven. By lunchtime he was eating his words. A spate of mysterious abductions spread across New York City had left the NYPD baffled. By Wednesday afternoon Mulder had found the link between the victims and tonight Donald Freeman sat in police custody, and was expected, by morning, to confess to the revenge killings of thirteen people.

To his relief, however, the week had not ended in the same way it had started. Now he sat, beer in one hand, remote in the other, and a half naked woman lying across his lap. He'd hardly seen Scully all week, what with the combination of his regular trips to DC and New York, and her turn at night shifts coming around. She'd arrived home that morning at six, just to see him on the way out and tell him that she planned to sleep all day so as to feel refreshed by the time he arrived home later in the day. Whether she'd meant that the same way he'd heard it, he wasn't sure, but it was the thought that had kept him going all day as they had traipsed from one grisly crime scene to another, making sure that nothing had been missed.

Now, he watched the flickering screen, as Sigourney Weaver blasted her nemesis into space only to watch it try to bounce back up again like a yo-yo on a string. Funny how something that seemed so frightening at the time, now seemed so ludicrous. The credits rolled and he pointed the remote at the television, turning down the volume, looking down at the body whose waist and legs lay across him. "You ready for bed?" He asked, yawning to the full, every second of it lending him some satisfaction.

"I only woke up four hours ago, Mulder." She replied, not moving. Her head lay against a stuffy pillow; her knees and calves fell across his lap, anchored down by the hand holding the remote.

"We don't have to sleep." He dropped the remote, pulling first at the hem of the t-shirt, and then walking his fingers up underneath to give a sharp tug on her underwear. Taking it as a sign of encouragement when she turned over to lie on her back, he tugged again, climbing her body like a jungle cat. The soft kiss of her lips sent a ripple of pleasure through his body, his attention suddenly diverted as his hands went to her hair, his mouth becoming hungry, insistent. The clinking sound of his belt brought her sensibility to the fore. As soon as his mouth temporarily left hers, she voiced her concerns.

"Here, Mulder? What about last time? I thought you said…." She stopped suddenly, sucking in her breath as his warm mouth made his way over her knee and to the inside of her thigh.

"It's okay, I got it worked out, Scully. You go on top, we stay as stationary as possible, and then nobody has to suffer." She struggled to stifle a quiet snigger, remembering their last escapade on the couch. On that occasion, things had spiralled out of control when, in a moment of excitement, he had sent them both to the very edge of the couch, causing it to tip, resulting in a nasty cut on his head from the nearby table.

The smile disappeared from her face as she felt his warm tongue lightly touching her. He was gentle at first, stroking his tongue against her folds, before grabbing her thighs and pulling her closer against his mouth. He flicked his tongue against the tiny bundle of nerves, now swollen from his onslaught.

It drove her crazy when he did that. Often she'd stop him half way through, so turned on by what he did to her that she would feel the urge for them to be connected there and then, letting her show him how she felt. She did that now, pushing him away from her, straddling his lap and kissing him full force, taking every inch of him inside her. She looked directly at him and caught him looking straight at her, carefully watching her face for any sign of pain, seeking permission to begin to move. It wasn't possible for her to love this man anymore then she already did. The thought of ever losing him crippled her; the thought of him with anyone else made her sick. As he took hold of her waist and began to push up inside her, she shoved those dark thoughts away. This was forever. She'd fight anybody that thought otherwise.

His heart thundered in his chest, his lungs heaving with exhaustion. For a man pushing fifty, he thought he did pretty well, but as time went by his body took longer to recover from such exertions. It didn't always happen so energetically, but when it did, the excitement and gratification he felt overrode the nagging muscle pain that he would experience the next day. Although he had prepared himself to have to tip toe around her today of all days, he'd found that she'd been her normal self. He hoped these feelings were genuine, but he feared it to be more of a façade that may later crack in private. She was so beautiful. He still couldn't fathom how she came to be with him, that no one else had snatched her up instead.

"I love you," he blurted out.

"I know you do." She smiled, moving to get off him.

"No." His hand caught the side of her face, gently but firmly steadying her face in front of his. "I mean it. I love this; I love us, here together like this. I won't ever get tired of this. It's everything I want." He brought his other hand to her face. "You make me so happy. I'd do anything to make you as happy as I am now. Anything." His words touched her. She leaned back, really looking at him now. Looking into his eyes and trying to figure out what he meant. She knew what he had _said_ and she knew how he _felt_. But why was he saying this? Why now and with such tenacity?

"What is it, Mulder?" She watched his face, the intensity of his stare making her nervous. Finally, he softened, moving his hands from her face, down her neck, over her breasts and laid them to rest on her hips.

"Nothing." He sighed. "I love you, that's all." His smile certainly went a long way to allaying her fears. He was such an intense person in so many ways; it only made sense that the strength of his feelings for her would show in some way. She leaned forward, enclosing his bottom lip with hers.

"I couldn't be happier, Mulder." She reached for her t-shirt, sliding it over her head before easing off him, heading for the bathroom.

"What do you wanna watch next?" he hollered as she padded out of the room, across the hall and into the en-suite of the spare bedroom.

"You choose, I don't mind," she shouted over the sound of running water.

* * * * *

She returned after twenty minutes, her hair soaking wet and a line of mascara lying stubbornly under each eye. She slumped down next to him, her arms encircling his neck. Her attention was momentarily seized by the noise blaring from the television set.

"Oh Mulder, 'The Hills Have Eyes'? Really?"

"What? It's a classic American movie. It's the original, too, not some lousy re-make. C'mon, Scully, I'll let you cover your eyes at the really scary bits."

"It isn't the scary parts I'm afraid of, Mulder; it's the hammy acting and horrendous special effects. I'd rather watch one of your old adult videos than this garbage."

"That can be arranged." He smiled, knocking back the final dregs of his beer, knowing that now he was in a win-win situation.

The phone interrupted his next thought as he reached over to silence it. "Mulder," he answered.

"Mulder, it's Skinner. I need a favour."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

THE FAVOUR

"What did Skinner want?" she asked, not being able to help herself. His voice would always be associated with the darkness now, no matter what guise it may take. The candid part of her knew she wanted control over Mulder, control over how much help he could give; enough to help save lives, but not enough to put him at risk. Risk was not something they needed. Risk was a foolish threat, something that should never be invited into their lives again. Realistically she knew that risk was part of life. Who was it that said that every life, every day, was in danger?

He saw the flutter of apprehension across her face. "It's okay, he doesn't want us – he wants our house."

"What?"

"He needs to hide someone, a girl who needs protection. He didn't go into specific detail, but apparently there's been an incident in Washington, some kind of massacre. They think they've uncovered an international trafficking ring but they have only two survivors. The main suspect has disappeared and they need somewhere out of the way to protect them. He wants us to hide one of the girls out here with us."

"Why us?" she asked, suddenly realising the negativity she must be emitting.

"I guess it makes sense really. We're out in the sticks, I can work from home and what could be better protection than staying with two trained FBI agents? He said that they can send someone up here if we both need to be elsewhere." He watched her face carefully, knowing her reaction and understanding it most of the time. In this instance he didn't understand where the old Scully had gone, the Scully who would have done anything to protect the innocent. His face must have conveyed his feelings well. She shot him a defensive look before backing down into resignation.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be awkward. You know how I still feel about them, Mulder."

"Them? This is a favour for Skinner. My writing, this new part of our lives, he supported me through that. If he hadn't put me in touch with Carter I might still be locking myself away and I know how much you hated that. I feel I owe him, Scully." She looked at him, biting her lip but nodding all the same. "Anyway," he continued, nudging her gently, "we're doing a good thing. Ten years ago you'd have done this without a second thought."

"Ten years ago I didn't feel this way, didn't have anything to lose."

He laughed, which only seemed to frustrate her more.

"Scully, this is straightforward witness protection. She's a young girl who could be a victim of trafficking and they need somewhere out of the way to hide her. I don't see the problem."

"When does she get here?" It seemed ridiculous that she felt a pang of jealousy, of defensiveness, because another woman would be living in her home. Her voice had obviously betrayed her because he practically beamed at her.

"Scully, don't tell me you're jealous?"

"Of course not. It'll be weird having another person living here though."

"Okay, Skinner will call tomorrow with the details." He waited for a moment, hating how quiet she had gone and how thoughtful she looked. He put on his best impression of arrogance. "To be honest with you though, I think you're right not wanting to share me. Aren't you scared that another woman might notice my masculinity?"

"Yeah, Mulder, that's it. That's exactly it." She looked away, hating that he knew her that well. He may not have been completely right, but he had hit a nerve along the way. Her own secret insecurities would only ever surface when it came to Mulder.

He smiled at her. "What? You don't believe me? I don't blame you for feeling nervous, Scully. You should want to lock me up and throw away the key. I'm offended that you cannot accept the fact that you're co-habiting with a highly desirable man, in the prime of his life. You should feel anxious." He reached over, snatching at another bottle of beer. He leaned back, burning his elbow on the scented candle that rested on the table. In one swift move he leapt in the air, yelping as he patted down the tiny flame that had burned through his shirt. As she snorted with laughter, her own beer fizzed up to her nose. She rose, going to get a towel to mop up his beer. She reached up, pulling his lips onto hers.

"Thank you, Mulder." She grinned at him.

"For what?" he asked, shaking beer from his shirt, much to her chagrin.

"For making me feel less anxious."

* * * * *

(Saturday 13th)

They stood on the porch, watching as the dark car with the blacked out windows rolled down the drive. Unsure of what to do, they waited, rooted to the spot whilst Skinner opened the car door, coaxing the girl from the car. She was only a little taller than Scully, with beautiful, dark, shiny tresses that fell below her shoulders. Her skin appeared milky and smooth and Scully couldn't believe how stunning she looked even when totally devoid of make-up. The closer they got, the more beautiful she appeared.

"This is Khai." Skinner handed a small suitcase to Mulder. The girl looked shy, unsure of herself. "It's alright, Khai." Skinner tried his best to relieve awkwardness of the situation. "You'll be safe here. You will be protected, I promise you."

Sensing the discomfort, Scully quickly stepped forward, ushering her inside. "Khai?" She took hold of the girl's elbow. "I'll show you around. Come with me." With that the girl followed her inside, her eyes downcast, meeting Mulder's glance only briefly.

When he was sure that they were out of earshot, he carefully shut the front door and questioned Skinner. "So, what's the story?"

"The justice department has been working on this for months now, attempting to dig out this guy, Jenson, for importing and trafficking young girls. We were trying to figure out how they were importing without anyone knowing. We still don't know, but one of the girls managed to escape a few days ago, nearly getting killed on the highway. She led us back to the place where they were kept. Only problem was, when we got there, Jenson was gone and his buddies and the rest of the girls were dead."

"Dead? How?"

"A few men had internal haemorrhaging. Others seemed to fall victim to mental illness."

"Mental illness?"

"Some of the men had mutilated each other."

"What happened to the girls?"

"Internal injuries mostly. A few had already taken their own lives. We haven't had chance to talk to the other girl yet; she is still in the hospital due to injuries similar to the other girls. We assume this was due to the abuse they suffered while in captivity."

"I thought you said she had been able to lead you back to the others?"

"She did. It was later that she developed complications. We'll need the two surviving girls to testify though, so whatever you can get out of Khai will be a bonus. She'll have a court-appointed therapist arrive here everyday to prepare her for the trial. It shouldn't be too far away now – we've had it brought forward due to the girls being sent back to Thailand as soon as possible. A couple of weeks should be it, obviously depending on us finding Jenson." Mulder nodded, understanding what he meant. Skinner turned to go.

"You both okay, Mulder?" he asked. He hardly pried into their lives now, save for asking about Scully whenever Mulder frequented D.C.

"All I need is the Red Sox to win the World Series and I'm a set man."

Skinner nodded, turning away. "It'll never happen!" he called, walking to his car.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

**Arrival**

She'd let the pasta burn a little, but that didn't matter to Mulder. She'd always loved cooking for him years ago, when they were simply enjoying each other's company after work at her apartment. Recently however, work meant that she only occasionally had the energy to do that now. Now as she watched him eat she remembered why he was the best dinner guest that anyone could have. He ate absolutely anything she put in front of him, probably too many years devoid of that type of attention. He proved that now, eating even the burnt bits with enthusiasm, finishing a full plate whilst she and Khai were not even halfway through their own.

Khai was the epitome of innocence. She couldn't have been more then twenty years old, her skin unblemished and her manner subdued, having hardly uttered a word since her arrival. They had taken her things into the bigger spare bedroom, situated downstairs at the end of the hall. Scully had helped her unpack the bits and pieces from a small, duffel bag. Her belongings consisted of a few items of clothing, some make up and a scattering of tiny perfume bottles.

The quiet now felt too uneasy for Scully. "Khai, where did you get your things from? Did they let you bring anything from home?"

The girl looked up from her food. "No, they let me bring nothing from my home. At house girls give me some things, make up and few clothes. I have no money to buy these things now."

Mulder looked over at her. "Don't worry Khai, we have clothes for you." Scully swallowed her food and pushed aside the selfish thought that had somehow edged itself into her brain without her realising it. She didn't begrudge helping the girl, however she had become accustomed to their private life and any infringement on that felt a threat. She shoved those childish thoughts aside, appreciating this kind, caring side of Mulder's personality that she would never ever wish away.

Khai quietly pushed her food around for another five minutes, before setting her fork down. Scully waited until she was sure she'd finished, before standing and collecting the three plates. She turned toward the sink, suddenly halted by Mulder's arms encircling her waist. He pulled her closer to him. "Dinner was great." He smiled into her sweater. She dropped a kiss to his forehead, before jarring herself, remembering they had an audience. Mulder didn't care. He never cared. Even when they worked together he'd found no problem in showing the affection he had for her in public. It was as if his brain told him that if they weren't on a case, nobody could see them. Ridiculous, she had thought, and had often reminded him of the consequences if anyone from work had seen them. This, however, turned into one of her main regrets after he had been taken – that she didn't show him that she loved him enough. He'd since put her mind to rest, telling her not to think about it, that he knew she loved him and that he wouldn't change a day. Then he'd reminded her of the very public display of affection she'd shown him in the back of the limousine after the premiere in Los Angeles. The thought still gave her shivers.

She broke away from him, dropping the plates at the sink and telling Khai that she'd go get her some clothes. As Scully ascended the stairs, she could feel the uncomfortable silence that she left behind.

She did not return to it, however.

"Do you want to come and watch some TV?" Mulder had asked, getting up and walking over to the living room. Khai had followed him, sitting in the single armchair in the corner. He flicked through the channels, hoping to find something that she would be interested in. He finally settled on some romantic comedy with Julia Roberts. He glanced at her, watching her relax into the chair, her posture soon turning to a relaxed slump.

Half an hour later the credits rolled as Scully descended the stairs, the pile of clothes in her hands. Khai turned to look at her, her eyes wide with surprise. "All these for me?" She asked, standing now.

"Sure." Scully smiled at her unsurely, a little taken aback by the girl's delight, "Give me anything you want me to wash too."

"Thank you, thank you." She tipped her head to Scully. "Can I go to bed now?" She looked round at Mulder, as if asking his permission. He struggled to answer her for a second, not wanting to give her the impression that she had to ask him.

"That's fine." Scully turned to walk towards the spare room. "I'll go with you. We can sort out if there's anything else you need."

When Khai had unpacked her small quantity of belongings, Scully had noticed a small diary lying on the bedside table that had now disappeared. The few clothes she had brought with her were dirty and cheap. When she asked Khai if she still wanted them, she shook her head, looking at the floor. One thing Scully did notice was the severe lack of hygiene products. No soap, toothpaste, deodorant, not even a hairbrush. She left on a scouting mission throughout the house, picking up bits and pieces to try to give the girl a sense of security. She couldn't imagine what it would have been like for her to be taken from her home and put into some kind of whorehouse, not knowing anybody and having nothing to call her own. She inwardly cursed herself for her initial sense of spite when Mulder had offered her the clothes. She herself had a lovely home; a good job and a loving man to come home to. This girl had none of those things.

Mulder had taken himself up to bed, making the most of his isolation to work on his writing. The door opened and Scully padded in, closing the door behind her.

"How is she?" Mulder looked up from his laptop, his knees aching from the cross-legged position he had taken sitting on their bed.

"Quiet." Scully answered, crossing the room towards the closet that bore her clothes. "She doesn't really want to talk. I'm not surprised though. If what Skinner said is anything to go by, she has to be terrified. I'll try again tomorrow." She walked up to him, tilting her head toward the laptop. "What are you doing anyway? Internet in bed? Dare I ask?"

"If you must know, I'm writing the article Carter wanted." He put on his best mock-offended tone. "What did you think I was doing?"

"Come off it Mulder. I've looked at your favorites folder. You can't label EVERYTHING as research. I've never understood men's total fascination with sex. It makes you vulnerable you know, it puts us women in such a position of power." She sounded amused, like she had him all figured out.

"Scully, I am offended that you would generalise like that. Not all men are simply a set of walking testicles that have no willpower against any woman trying to use sex to get her own way. Some men actually have incredible restraint and willpower, and can see past any lewd act that a woman puts on."

"Some men Mulder, but not many, none I know, in fact." She said, waiting until he reciprocated her smile, making sure he had felt humoured, before disappearing into the bathroom. He looked down at his laptop, reading the last sentence for what felt like the hundredth time. For the hundredth time he winced at the way the words ran through his head, as if they fell over each other in some kind of awkward stumble and not the smooth flow that Carter would expect. He closed his eyes, engaging his brain, triggering memories of the past and hoping that the memories alone would generate some kind of pertinent description.

Hearing the bathroom door click again, he opened his eyes, casually glancing toward the sound. What he saw was anything but a casual sight.

He gulped down, removing his glasses and placing them onto the bedside table. She looked dishevelled with her hair still lying in damp ringlets and her make-up smudged slightly under her eyes. But those things only complimented her attire, which consisted of a black camisole that turned into nothing but black fishnet over her breasts. She walked past him, pleading ignorance, heading straight for the dresser, where she dropped down in front of the mirror, wiping the black smudges from her eyes. "Are you okay, Mulder?" She asked, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

Okay, he thought, now he knew she had to be teasing. She had to know that she couldn't wear THAT to bed.

"Am I okay?" He said, astounded. "Scully where did you get THAT from?"

"This old thing? I've had this for years, surely you must have noticed." She ran fingers through her hair now, curling the strawberry strands around them.

"Scully you have NEVER worn that in front of me before. Trust me, I would've remembered."

He watched her reflection, seeing a small smile appear. So she WAS teasing. This scenario had been played out too many times now. She would lay it all out on a plate for him, but because he would be the one to make all the moves, she could later label HIM as the sexual deviant and paint herself as the innocent party. Fine Scully, he thought, two can play at that game.

He replaced his glasses and pulled his computer back onto his lap, forcing himself to focus on the jumble of words that refused to align into a coherent sentence. His eyes were trained on the screen, but they ached to look at her again. He'd already forgotten the fine details, but he resisted, reminding himself that she needed to be taught a lesson. She thought she'd had him all figured out; that she could just wander in wearing next to nothing and he would drop everything, like some kind of pathetic lap dog. Well not tonight, Agent Scully. Two can play at the teasing game.

He felt her side of the bed bow slightly, the warmth of her body radiating against him. She leaned toward him, planting an open mouthed kiss on his neck, letting her hand wander under the covers, into his boxers. He fixed his stare onto the screen, stifling a throaty groan as her slender fingers wrapped around him. If his conscious actions weren't betraying him, his unconscious ones certainly were, as he felt himself grow even harder under her touch.

"What are you doing?" His voice came out as a squeak as he shifted uncomfortably, forcing his mind onto other matters, trying to get rid of the raging hard-on that had taken up most of the room in his boxers. He thought about the article he had been asked to write, challenging his brain to recall every case file on spontaneous combustion he could remember. He reminded himself of the approaching deadline and the pressure he was under to get this finished by the start of next week. That's good, he thought, you just keep thinking of what Carter will do to your dick if you put this off another week. After another few minutes of staring at the screen, he screwed up his eyes, and then opened them, blinking rapidly as the words and letters on the screen became blurred and merged together. She moved around now, positioning herself behind the laptop, facing him. He continued to type, only to be interrupted intermittently by Scully, enveloping his bottom lip between hers. Every kiss weakened his resolve, until he eventually gave in. He looked up at her. "I'm turning this off because I've finished my work, okay?" Her kisses became more frequent as he tried to speak. "Not for …any other …reason…." Who was he kidding? "Me …putting… this away is …merely …coinciding with …your blatant attempt…at…harassing…me…okay?"

"Hmm…" She brought her hands to his face. "Okay…"

"Okay." He swallowed, snapping the computer shut and putting it on the floor, before taking her face in his hands, pulling her deeper into him. He shifted himself backwards, pulling her into his lap. This position had always worked for them, giving him access to everywhere he wanted to touch and allowing them to kiss – something he knew she liked throughout. He rubbed his hands along her shoulder, pulling the straps of her camisole down her shoulders.

He slid his hands to her waist, giving the flimsy material a hard shove, pulling it down so that her soft, full breasts were exposed to him. He loved her body. He had seen it in so many different stages of her life, but always he found it fascinating, tirelessly arousing. Looking at her now, he thought she'd never looked better, her breasts being fuller than before, her belly still malleable and slightly swollen below her navel and her hair long and soft, making her the epitome of femininity in his eyes.

They kissed gently for what seemed like hours, his hands gently cupping her breasts, dragging his fingers over the dark peaks. He dropped his mouth to her neck, sucking the skin hard enough to leave a mark. His lips trailed down into the valley of her breasts, while his hands roamed her back, pushing her upper body forward, allowing his mouth to reach the dark studs that already ached from his earlier ministrations. Soon he was thrusting up into her, her body jolting slightly with every stroke. She closed her eyes, dropping her head to his shoulder, matching his rhythm thrust for thrust. He reached between them, pushing his thumb up and down against her clit. He knew her body so well; knew that she couldn't always climax this way, and that she'd need to be helped along. Soon he heard the familiar keening noises, telling him that soon she'd be over the edge; that the pleasure was beginning to intensify. He could feel his own climax starting now, making his balls go tight and every bit of friction causing more sensitivity than before. "Oh God Scully." he bunched her hair into his one hand, shoving her hips up and down with the other. He kissed her neck, dragging his mouth loosely up and down her throat. "God, I can't believe we went without this for so long." He felt her smile against him, her hands wrapping round his neck, pulling him closer against her. A few more strokes and he'd be done, he knew that much. He stopped for a moment, grabbing the underneath of her thighs, pushing her onto her back. He'd taken her by surprise and for the second where she was on her back and he was still sat upright, she went to question him. "Mulder what…."

Then he was on top of her, lifting her leg over his shoulder and pushing himself into her, slamming into her over and over again. Her hands bunched the comforter underneath as she buried her face in the duvet, a sure sign that her own orgasm was approaching.

"Oh God Mulder, I'm coming. Oh God Mulder, harder." She gasped out, her voice low, almost a whisper. If the sight of her writhing underneath him hadn't finished him off, her last request certainly did it. He closed his eyes, hammering himself into her three or four last times, emptying himself into her. Exhausted he collapsed on top of her, holding himself off her body with his elbows, careful not to crush her tiny frame that now heaved with similar fatigue. He kissed her lips, gently tugging at her, waiting for her to respond, to acknowledge him again. He felt her lips move against his, her hands coming up to cup his face. He rolled over, realising that they were facing the wrong way when his feet kicked the pillow over. She pushed herself up, grabbing the tiny shorts that had managed to find their way onto the floor, several feet away from the bed. She wandered into the bathroom, feeling the sticky liquid trickle between her legs as she walked. It was the only thing that ever bothered her about having sex, although she always did her best to disguise it, not wanting him to know it bothered her. She jumped into the shower, quickly washing herself, not even waiting for the warm water to fully make an appearance.

She slipped the camisole back on, and looked at her appearance. The camisole fell just below her soft abdomen. The faint stretch marks of her pregnancy still present, fading every day. This saddened her, knowing that eventually you would not even be able to tell that she'd ever been pregnant. Thoughts flitted through her head briefly, her body reacting to her memory of William's birth, remembering the agony that almost immediately subsided when Monica had placed him in her arms. Her mind suddenly filled with landmarks in his life that she had experienced and those she would have missed. A wave of nausea hit her stomach, rising in her throat.

How could she have forgotten? What kind of woman was she? She looked at her reflection now. She looked at the woman staring back at her, hating her. What kind of mother would forget her own Son's birthday? But you're not a mother are you? The reflection told her, accusingly. Look at you, dressed like some kind of slut. But you're not young, are you? You're just a sad, old woman who doesn't deserve to be happy.

She glanced sideways to Mulder, who was now under the covers, lying on his back, having pulled down the covers on her side waiting for her to get in. She looked to the mirror again. He may say he loves you, but don't think for a moment that he's forgiven you for what you did. His last chance to be a father and you took it away from him, you selfish bitch. It's not like you could make more either. Now he's stuck with you and he stays with you because he feels he has to. He feels sorry for you. She stepped backwards, trying to escape the ferocious negativity that ran through her brain. She was astounded at so many dreadful deliberations latticing in her head all at once. Overwhelmed, she shut the door, turning the tap on to disguise the sound of her vomiting. Again the reflection snarled at her. She wiped her face clean of the remaining make up that had made Mulder look at her as if she were some kind of walking wet dream. Now she simply looked foolish. She yanked the camisole off, grabbing an old t-shirt from the washing basket. Now she understood why Mulder had been so sombre yesterday, why he had felt the need to reassure her. God what must he think of her? He must hate her. Not only did she give away his son, but she had started to forget about him too.

Tears burned her eyes, threatening to fall. She stopped herself, knowing that the minute she gave in, she wouldn't stop and that couldn't happen now, not here. She needed to be alone. She opened the door again, ambling over to the bed, where Mulder's face practically beamed at her. His smile disappeared when he saw her eyes, red rimmed and glistening.

"You okay Scully?" he held out his arm, motioning for her to lie next to him. She nodded, not meeting his eyes.

"I'm fine Mulder, I feel tired though." She lay against him, loving the feel of his body wrapping around hers, encasing her.

"Why'd you get changed?" He asked, his words coming out against her hair.

She breathed out heavily, trying to hold herself together. She knew she should be able to speak to him about this, but something stopped her. She felt so much shame inside herself; she'd be mortified if he couldn't help her. If maybe he thought she deserved it too.

"I'm too old to wear things like that now, I looked ridiculous. I don't know what I was thinking."

He pressed himself closer to her now, taken aback by the change in her attitude. Only an hour ago she'd flaunted herself brazenly before him and now she seemed ashamed of herself as she held her arms in front of her body under his embrace.

"I know what I was thinking." He tightened his grip again. "I was thinking, how on earth did I end up with someone like you? I was thinking, that I'm one lucky son of a bitch." Her lips turned up a little. At least part of what her reflection had said was wrong. Mulder was with her because he wanted her. She felt another twinge of sadness at the truth of the other proclamations that had filtered into her mind. Don't think about it now, she told herself, wait until tomorrow, when you have time to yourself. She closed her eyes, entering a fitful sleep filled with images of her baby that she probably wouldn't even recognise now.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

**Sunday 14****th**

He would often wake before she did, usually as soon as the morning sun filtered its way through the yellow curtains and poked at his eyes like an unwelcome intruder. Any other day he would wait patiently as she would soon have to get up and go to work. Sundays, however, were different. For the majority, she would not have to work, meaning that she would allow herself to sleep in. On these days he would get himself up as soon as he woke, doing bits and pieces around the house before waking her up with coffee. It invariably ended up with him getting back into bed with her, even if it meant they had a five-minute kiss and fumble before getting up to start the day.

He stood in the kitchen, clearing away the dishes from last night's dinner, mulling over the events of the previous evening in his head. She had been crying in the bathroom, he was been sure of that. She'd felt stiff in his arms and he knew she had lain awake for some time because he had been awake too, watching her breathe short shallow breaths. He heard their bedroom door close and felt a twinge of disappointment when Scully appeared in the kitchen.

"Why'd you get up?" he asked, handing her the coffee. "I was about to bring this up to you." She forced a small smile, going to take the coffee, only to have Mulder pull it away from her at the last minute. He set it down behind him, grabbing her waist and pulling her toward him.

"What is it, Mulder?"

"I just wondered, I wanted to know, if I did something last night." She started to back away, looking down, shaking her head, and trying to dismiss him as quickly as possible. He continued, his hands still on her waist, following her across the kitchen. "I mean, did I say something while we were…" He himself was well aware of the profanities that would slip out of his mouth at the most inopportune moments.

"No!" She brought her hands up instantly, pushing his hands off her waist. He looked hurt. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm alright though."

He didn't let up, following her gaze wherever it went. She didn't want to talk about that now; she wanted to talk about something else. "I looked in the mirror last night and I guess I saw that I'm getting older and hadn't realised it until I put that black thing on." She took her coffee off the counter. Mulder looked at her, astounded.

"You think YOU'RE old? Christ, what does that make me? Anyway, you didn't hear me complaining last night did you?"

"Mulder, you wouldn't care if I wore a grocery bag to bed. Seriously, I don't know what I was thinking. I'll put it in the charity basket later." He stuck his coffee down quickly, heading out through the alcove and up the stairs. "Mulder? What are you doing?"

"I'm hiding the black thing, Scully!" he hollered. "You look hot in it; you're not taking that away from me!" She heard the playfulness in his voice and started laughing herself. Just then, Khai appeared before her, dressed in the sweats that she'd donated to her the night before.

"Morning, Khai, did you sleep okay?" Khai smiled at her.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs Mulder. I sleep very well. Best I sleep in months. That bed is soft."

"Call me Dana," she replied. Although she and Mulder weren't technically married, he'd often referred to her as his wife, both in public and private. Outwardly she'd protested, but inwardly she loved it, never wanting to be anything so much. "Do you want some breakfast?"

The girl nodded, seeming like a new person comparative to yesterday. "Okay, well, I'll put breakfast on. Go watch TV if you want, it won't take long." She did as she was asked, dropping down on the sofa.

Pancakes seemed like the only thing on the menu as Scully set the mixture into the pan. She quickly surveyed the room, making a mental list of jobs that needed doing. Mulder had gotten up early again and done everything, freeing up her day. Usually they would go out together but she guessed that was off the cards unless they arranged cover for Khai. The girl sat watching a basketball game on the television, seemingly contented, but still as quiet as last night. It seemed that the only time she spoke was in profuse gratitude to being offered things that any other person might be complacent about.

Mulder appeared in the doorway. "I thought pancakes were my thing?" he whined, only because when she left it to him he made them twice as sugary and five times as fattening.

"Here." She turned to him, plate of pancakes in one hand and syrup bottle in the other. "Have as much syrup as you want." Her voice had that matter of fact tone. "Fill those arteries with cholesterol if you need to."

He smiled happily at her, taking the syrup and holding it close to his chest, as if she'd try to take it off him again like she had on previous occasions.

She followed him into the living room, handing Khai the other plate of pancakes. Mulder sat next to her on the sofa, watching her receive the plate graciously. So engrossed in his food was he, that it took a moment for him to catch on that the basketball was on television, albeit without sound.

"Oh, Bobcats versus Bulls, fantastic." He turned to Khai. "You like basketball?" She nodded her head.

"The men, at that place. They watch this often, I learn a little," she answered.

"Okay, well, you see the tallest guy in the middle? He's the centre. They put the medium sized people at the front; they're called forwards. The smallest guys usually play at the back. Whoa, now you see he's committing a violation because he's moving and not bouncing the ball. We call that travelling. Now that guy there, he's committed what we call a defensive foul. It's when…"

He stopped when Scully leaned over the back of the couch, blocking Khai's view of Mulder. "Khai, I hate to do this to you but I have to go out for a few hours. Are you going to be okay staying here and listening to him talking about sports?" Khai nodded energetically, her smile wider then it had been since she arrived.

"You see." Mulder smacked her arm with the syrup. "Some people like listening to me. Some people appreciate my vast knowledge covering numerous subject matters."

"Some people have shopping to do. It's Carter's thing tonight; I bet you forgot, huh?" His mind rifled through his mental calendar. Was that tonight? Weeks ago Carter had wanted to arrange a meeting between themselves and another one of his clients.

"That's tonight? What about…"

"It's tomorrow night, Mulder, and don't worry: I organised cover with Skinner." She kissed his forehead and then disappeared out of the front door.

* * * * *

Scully hadn't even got the key in the lock when she heard the laughing coming from the other side. She opened the door, revealing Khai and Mulder exactly where she left them, only now she seemed much more comfortable, actually laughing with him, or at him. "Someone sounds happy," she said, dragging shopping bags through to the kitchen.

"Ah well, someone has discovered Seinfeld."

"Seinfeld, Mulder?"

"I know! But she likes it so I left it on. What did you buy?"

"Bits and pieces, something for tomorrow night." She stopped, watching Khai leaning into the television enthusiastically. "Did you get much out of her?"

"Not really. You're better for that; we still don't know what happened out there. I'm going to call Skinner later, find out what they know."

Monday 15th

Khai's appearance next to her reflection startled her, making her jump up, nearly falling off the stool. She rarely used the dresser, not having the time to sit in front of it to get ready for work. It was generally a rush job, leaving only time for the barest of make up. From this position she was level with the mirror, able to see herself as she carefully applied the final layer of mascara. She could tell Khai had been taken aback by her appearance. She usually wore as little make up as possible, making it all the more effectual when she did wear more. Tonight her eyeliner had been applied in a thick neat line, her mascara brushed over her lashes, over and over until they looked full and perfect. As Khai had frightened her, Scully had dropped one of her earrings on the floor. Khai fell to her knees, searching carefully for the silver trinket. "I am so sorry, Mrs Mulder. Let me help you."

"It's okay." She similarly dropped down and searched the floor. "And please stop calling me Mrs Mulder. We're not married, you know."

Khai's eyes were wide. "You are not?" It amazed Scully what she took for granted in America. What seemed everyday to her would be a culture shock for someone like Khai. Just then, the girl stopped searching and simply stared at Scully. Self-conscious all of a sudden, and sensing the moment of unease, she suddenly backed off.

"I am sorry Mrs…Dana, I did not want to pry."

"It's alright, Khai. We worked together for nine years, and we've been living together for seven. So that's sixteen years together. I guess neither of us feels the need to get married. I mean, it wouldn't change anything between us. I get the feeling it isn't like that for you back home." Khai shook her head then.

"In my village, we marry whoever our father choose."

"Were you married?"

"Yes, for a year. My father choose good man for me. My husband died one year later. Then men bring me here, to that place." She went back to searching.

"Oh, here, found it." Scully held the slender bit of silver out for Khai to see.

"It is beautiful," she said, going to touch, then snapping her hand back.

Scully slid it into the soft lobe, clipping the back into place. "They were Mulder's mother's. He gave them to me when we first moved here."

They both turned at sound of the front door slamming.

"That must be Carter. Can you do me a favour? When I put this thing on, can you zip me up?" Scully got up, taking the black dress from the bed. When Khai nodded, Scully quickly shrugged off the thin robe and slipped the dress over her head and held herself in as Khai zipped her up. It wasn't the type of thing she would usually buy. Made of a slim silky material, it came down to just above her knees, the front a plunging V-shape and the back dipping similarly, just hiding the faint remnants of her tattoo. She slipped the black stilettos onto her feet, and walked out to the stairwell. From the landing she could see that not only had Carter arrived, but one of Skinner's men too, there to stay with Khai. Scully recognised him instantly from their years at the bureau, Agent Kessler. Part of her felt nervous about her appearance in front of the others. She'd been that way as a kid, always worried that people would look at her, even if it were for a good reason. She pulled her coat on, wishing she had something more substantial than the delicate grey material in which to go out into the night.

She made her way over to the three men standing in the living room, bringing Khai with her. As Carter turned to greet her, he did a double take, visibly running his eyes up and down her. In any other man she might be irritated, offended, even. But she knew Carter well enough to see that behind the outrageous flirting, he had become a good friend to the both of them and had provided Mulder with an opportunity to enjoy his work again. After extricating herself from his embrace, Scully introduced him to Khai, being careful to shield her from Carter's advances. Khai backed straight off, sliding further behind Scully.

"Okay, I've shown Kevin around the house. Khai, why didn't you tell us that the heating was broken in the bedroom? You must have been freezing in there."

"It's broken?" Scully pulled a face, knowing that this particular house could become freezing in the winter without adequate heating.

"Yeah, it's freezing in there. Khai, you should stay in the other bedroom upstairs. It's small but you'll be better off." She nodded, quietly retreating to the spare room. They watched her go before Carter broke the silence.

"Okay, folks, taxi's waiting and so is the food. Let's go." He opened the front door, marching out into the freezing night.

* * * * *

Mulder burst through the front door, swaying and leaning against the frame. He might have stayed there all night if Scully hadn't pushed him through the gap, shutting the cold out. Kevin Kessler looked pissed.

"What's the matter?" Scully asked. She may have drunk as much as Mulder, but she did a better job at hiding it. Her only regret was that tomorrow was her last day off work and she had the feeling she'd be spending half of it in bed.

Kevin got up off the sofa, grabbing his coat.

"I feel like shit. Must be indigestion or something. I'll be fine when I get home." He left, leaving her alone in the living room, whilst Mulder bounced around the kitchen

"Mulder, what are you doing?"

"Looking for waffles – I'm hungry." He opened cupboard after cupboard, allowing them to snap shut with a loud bang.

"Mulder, you can't be serious. Come to bed."

That got his attention. In half a second he'd picked her up and put her on the worktop, kissing her intensely. Instinct told her not to encourage him, that he was surely too paralytic to get up the stairs, let alone engage in another marathon of sex. It would be their third in four days, surely not possible when he could hardly walk through the front door. But now he was changing her mind, sucking on the tender bit of flesh under her jaw, on her throat. His hands went to the back of her neck, undoing the knot that held her dress in place. The smooth material fell forward into her lap, exposing her bare skin to the cold air. His hands went to her back, pulling her body to the edge of the surface, pulling her to him. Then he became tender, sucking gently on her nipple until she began to make small noises at the back of her throat. Once he heard those noises, he'd retreat again, licking only the tip, hardly touching her at all. He went back to kissing her, flinching when he felt her warm hand cupping him through his clothes. As she massaged him more, his kisses became coarse, doing his best to lean into her touch.

"Oh God, Scully." Her hands undid his pants as she put her hand into his boxers, sliding up and down his length. He put his lips on her shoulder, leaning on her, panting heavily. "Fuck, Scully, oh God, you need to stop." He made no attempt to physically stop her, closing his eyes and revelling in the feel of her touch.

The night had started awkwardly. He had never enjoyed the company of many other people, and tonight there had been more than many. Carter had mentioned another writer but had failed to mention that it was actually someone else's party that they were going to. It hadn't been until they pulled up outside and noticed the many cars parked outside that Mulder's stomach lurched. It used to be that he couldn't be bothered to mix, but too much time alone had left him out of practice. He'd assumed Scully would be the same, but he'd been pleasantly surprised. She'd become his human credential of sorts, making every introduction easier for him – not because she talked too much (in truth she only spoke as much as he did) but because of that side of her personality he rarely got to see in the early years they worked together. The part of her that he always knew was there, the part of her he would see glimpses of whenever she dealt with people that needed understanding. The sadness he had seen in her over the last few days had disappeared, and self-confidence took its place, radiating from her almost from the moment they left the house. He was pulled back to reality as she withdrew her hand, picking his head up from her shoulder.

"Mulder, I'm cold; let's go upstairs."

They hadn't done it like this in months. It was something that they hadn't tried until months into their secret affair because she'd panicked about how she would look. That seemed ridiculous now after all the other things they'd tried, but at the time, wrapping her legs around her partner's waist while he knelt up and banged her against the headboard had seemed ridiculous when normal missionary still gave her jitters. This time he hadn't even taken his shirt off, concentrating on lifting her body up and sliding her onto him. Every stroke drove her closer to the edge, causing her hands to curl tighter into his hair. He lifted his head from its place on her shoulder to kiss her hard on the mouth, the act becoming more awkward as he thrust into her faster and faster, pounding her harder and harder against the wall. Soon she could feel the familiar heat building inside her, spreading upwards, aggravated by his lower body pressing against her crotch, brushing her clit. Soon her hands were scraping against his back, urging him harder, faster. Once more, he pulled all the way out of her, waiting a moment before pushing himself back in with one hard stroke.

He felt her convulse around him as held himself inside her, waiting for her climax to subside before he moved again. As he waited, he watched her face and how that moment of ecstasy could easily be misconstrued for agony.

"Okay?" He asked her, using one hand to move the errant strand of hair from her face. She nodded wordlessly, letting her head drop onto his shoulder. He suddenly felt guilty, realising the hammering he had given her back against the cold wall. He hesitated, unsure of whether to continue, until he felt a hand pushing against his ass, urging him forward again. "Oh God," he moaned loudly into her ear, "Oh God, Scully, I love you so much, Scully." He continued to babble for the few more strokes it took to get him over the edge, pouring into her in a frenzy of hurried strokes.

With heaving breaths he moved back, easing her down onto the bed, careful to lower her down gently. He rolled next to her, lying on his back, panting heavily. He felt rather than saw her roll onto her side, and instinctively he spooned around her, wanting a goodnight kiss of some sort. She took his hand in hers, kissing it.

"You alright, Scully?" he asked her, squeezing her tighter.

"I'm good, Mulder," she replied, moving her leg back to lay over his. "I'm really good."

* * * * *

The house lay absolutely silent. She padded into the room, her bare feet sensitive to the rough carpet, her ears thankful that the house had become quiet again. She'd listened to them for an hour, hearing the moans escaping from the back of his throat as the noise on the other side of the wall had ascended into a horrific racket. She'd put her hands to her ears, trying to shut out the noise. Not of him, though. He was beautiful, a strong handsome man. Kind and gentle, nothing like the way her father and husband had been. He liked her, she could tell. He deserved a good wife. He deserved her, and he would have her, as soon as possible.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Tuesday 16th

Her head felt like a bowling ball. She struggled to open her eyes, and when she did it felt as if she were weightlifting with her eyeballs. Her body felt as if it were on fire; her hair was sweaty and greasy. She tried to extricate her body from Mulder's stronghold and failed. She felt too weak to lift a piece of paper, let alone shove a healthy male body off her. As her eyes focused, she made out the blurry image of Mulder, facing her. She saw him propped up on his elbow, staring at her.

"Morning." He smiled at her, reaching out to push an errant strand of hair from her face. "Someone's hung over."

Hung over? She couldn't be. "Mulder, I had far less than you to drink. There's no way I'm hung over." They had gone to sleep facing each other. It must have been soon after that he climbed her body like a jungle gym because she wouldn't have been able to sleep like this. He eased back from her.

"Do you want me to put the eggs on then?" He laughed, following her gaze as she winced and turned away from him. They both jumped at the sound of the door slamming. Memories flooded her mind as she remembered that they had told Khai to sleep next door. More memories now, as she also thought about what they'd done before going to sleep. Realisation seemed to be dawning on Mulder, also, as his expression moved quickly from confused to understanding. Obviously he didn't feel as horrified as she did, as a huge smile spread across his face.

"Mulder, you can't laugh about this. That poor girl is probably traumatized now, and what are we going to say?"

"Well, I'm betting she won't bring it up, Scully. You worry too much." He went to work, winding his limbs around her again. "Anyway, its only natural – she'll understand. She probably slept through it anyway."

She tried to sit up, only partially succeeding. "Okay, Mulder, first of all, there's no way anybody could have slept through the expletives coming out of your mouth last night…and secondly, I get the feeling that their culture is…restrictive, to be kind. They marry someone that their father chooses for them and they all live together under the same roof."

"She talked to you about it?"

"A little. Her husband died a year after marriage and then she was brought here. Makes you wonder if those men paid her father money to bring her here."

"Maybe." He also sat up and it grieved Scully that he seemed so well when she herself felt like death.

"I'll get up and see to Khai. You stay in bed a little longer." He swung his legs out of bed.

"You don't feel sick at all, do you?"

"No, I feel great, better then I have in months, actually. I feel more like twenty-eight then forty-eight."

"No kidding," she muttered, not really meaning for him to hear. He stopped walking and sat himself down on her side of the bed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, for the last three out of four nights, you've been insatiable." He looked upset for a moment before she shook her head, momentarily forgetting how self-absorbed he could become. "I don't mean it like that, Mulder. I mean, last night was great – I loved it." She rolled her eyes as his expression conveyed the swell of his ego. "I just wondered if there was any particular reason for it." Now he looked thoroughly confused. "I know, I know, it's not like we're exactly celibate any day of the week. But it's not just that. The last couple of nights you've seemed somewhere else." Okay now he was back to upset. Her hands went to her face. "This is coming out all wrong, I'm sorry. There's nothing wrong with any of it, Mulder, just wipe this conversation from your mind." She felt his arms go around her body, one in her hair, the other round her waist.

"If you want a reason, I can give you one." He backed off a little, tilting her head so that she had to face him. "I love you and I like showing you." He kissed her mouth, feeling excited as the panorama of last night played through his head. She grabbed at her side unexpectedly.

"What? What is it?" he asked, his voice full of alarm.

"It's nothing, Mulder, it's alright. I just need to lie down for a little longer." He pulled back the blankets to allow her under the thick duvet. He started to think that maybe she was right. This was no hang over.

* * * * *

He turned down the radio, ready to jump out and get the gate. Scully had gotten up soon after he did, telling him she would be fine, that she'd go into work tomorrow. He'd spent most of the day with Skinner, looking into Khai's case. The details were odd to say the least. All the men were dead, either from self-inflicted injuries, murder, or from internal injuries consistent with combat. In short, they'd killed each other. Most of the girls were also dead, probably caught up in the violence. The only two survivors were Khai and another girl who had been put into protective custody across the state. He'd brought some of the files home for Scully to go over, knowing that (although she'd never admit it) she still liked perusing over the case files that seemed impossible to crack.

He walked in to find Khai watching television, but no sign of Scully. Khai looked up at him as he greeted her and then he wandered into the kitchen. Two glasses of water and half of some kind of pastry were left on the table.

"Khai, where's Scully?" he asked.

"She go to bed again. She eat food I make and watch some TV. She go back to bed just now."

He carefully walked into their bedroom, finding Scully sprawled on top of the bed covers, wearing the same jeans that he had left her in. She stirred, as if knowing she was being watched.

"Mulder?" She tried to push herself up.

"It's okay, don't get up. How are you feeling now?" She rolled onto her side and propped herself up.

"Better now I've slept. What time is it?"

"Almost seven. Do you want me to call a doctor?" Both his face and his voice expressed concern.

"No, I'll be alright. I just need a bath and clean clothes. If I go straight back to sleep I should be okay for work tomorrow." She pushed herself up, steadying herself as sudden head rush made her dizzy.

"I'll run you a bath, then I'll call work and tell them not to expect you." He walked into the bathroom quickly, before she could protest. As he ran the water, he heard her voice behind him.

"They fixed the heating today so Khai can go back downstairs." She hovered, as if there were more.

"What? What is it?"

"I can't find one of my earrings, Mulder."

"Scully, you have tons of earrings scattered around the place, I wouldn't worry about one pair." She looked at him with intensity, scared to say it. So he said it for her. "You mean my mother's earrings?"

She nodded. "Mulder, I looked everywhere for them. I remember taking both off last night and putting them on the table next to the bed. When I got up there was only one."

"You'll find it, don't worry. It's got to be in the house somewhere." He kissed her forehead, rubbing his hands up and down her upper arms. "I'll look properly tomorrow."

But she knew he wouldn't find it. She'd searched the house, everywhere they had been last night. She felt sick at the thought that it may be lost. There were some things that you couldn't gloss over and say it was all okay. Some things could never be replaced.

* * * * *

He blinked rapidly, feeling disorientated and drowsy. He looked at his watch. It was eleven thirty. He had fallen asleep on the sofa. The only sign of life in the house came from the tiny sliver of light in Khai's room. He could only remember talking with her and watching television. He couldn't remembered falling asleep at all. He made his way up to bed, not bothering with the light as it would only wake Scully. He climbed in the bed behind her, putting an arm around her sleeping form, watching the deep breaths she took before he too succumbed to peaceful sleep.

Something crawled across his leg. A warm feeling, thick and heavy, it went down from his thigh to his knee. He opened his eyes, reaching down to investigate. He automatically pulled his fingers away as soon as he felt the liquid. Confused, he threw off the blankets, unable to make out what he had touched. Turning the lamp on, he gasped in terror. A pool of dark red blood saturated the mattress. The thigh that he had thrown over Scully had become a sticky brown mess. He shook Scully gently. No answer. His mind worked hard to understand how the blood could have ended up in their bed. He wasn't cut; she didn't seem cut either. He shook her gently, asking her to wake up. When she didn't, asking turned to frantic begging as he roughly pulled her onto her back. Why hadn't he realised sooner? The blood was from her! It pooled underneath her, the mattress absolutely soaked. He shouted at her, holding her to him, pleading for her to open her eyes, to tell him it wasn't as bad as he thought it was. He leapt from the bed, scrambling for the phone. Should he dial nine-one-one? If he did, he would have to wait for the paramedics to arrive and they would have to take her back. If he took her himself he'd have her seen to in half the time. Pulling on a pair of sweats, he ran downstairs and banged on Khai's door.

"Khai! Khai, wake up!" he yelled, until a small tired face appeared.

"What is it, Fox?"

"Dana is very sick. I'm taking her to the hospital. You will be here by yourself until someone arrives. When I go, lock the doors. Okay?" She nodded, seemingly overwhelmed by the onslaught of information. He ran back upstairs, grabbing his keys and phone. He gathered Scully in his arms and bundled her into the car. Although they lived in the sticks, he knew once they hit the city he'd be minutes away from the hospital. He looked over at her now. He hadn't even felt her pulse. What if she were dead already?

Why was this happening to them? Was it God deciding that they'd had enough happiness now? That he'd spent nine years with a woman he adored and that was plenty long enough? It wasn't long enough, he thought, as he put his foot down on the accelerator.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Early hours of Wednesday 17th

He leaned back against the cold wall, trying to breathe through his mouth, avoiding the unpleasant hospital smell. He was a mess. When he'd run through the sliding doors with her gathered in his arms, the receptionist had given him a look of horror. His clothes were soaked in her blood. Then they'd taken her from him and shut him out. He sat, his mind running through every possible outcome, the best of which was that he had over-reacted, the worst…that she was dead.

"Mulder." A deep voice reached his ears. He knew who it belonged to without looking round, but did so anyway out of respect.

"What are you doing here?" Mulder asked, as Skinner took a seat next to him.

"I got the call that you needed emergency cover for Khai. Another agent just arrived at your house."

"Sorry; maybe I should have brought her with us."

"No, you did the right thing. It would be worse if someone saw her." He paused. "What's the matter with her?"

Mulder opened his mouth to confess his ignorance, when a man in the typical white coat arrived in front of him.

"Mr Mulder?" He knew who to look at, just taking in the sight of his saturated clothes. Mulder stood, holding his breath before the man spoke again. "She's stable. We've managed to stem the blood loss. She's very lucky; much later and she'd be dead right now."

He sucked the air into his lungs, his body shaking at the very thought of it happening.

The doctor continued. "We think we may have located the problem. One of the tests showed a mass on her left ovary. We strongly believe that this has caused the haemorrhage, but there's no way of telling without removing it." Mulder looked at him, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, he realised that the doctor was not just telling him; he was asking him for consent. He rubbed at his eyes with his hands.

"Can't we wait until she wakes up? Let her talk to you about it? She's a doctor, she's-"

"Sir, if we wait that long she may haemorrhage again, and there's a great chance that she will die. We need you to sign the consent form." He sat back down, rubbing his face again. He knew that he had to agree. He'd do anything to ensure she lived. But he also knew what this could do to her. "Sir," the doctor prodded him. "She is very sick. We need to do this now."

* * * * *

She felt dreadful. A dozen duties that she needed to perform at work crossed her mind as she tried to roll onto her front, a common habit of avoiding the morning sunlight. Except this was not natural light and she couldn't roll over. Opening her eyes, she made out a foreign room, the walls painted a light colour, not like home. The sheets were white, not the dark blue duvet cover on their bed. She closed her eyes again, cataloguing the location of various aches and pains. She couldn't go to work today. No, she would lie down for a while longer and maybe her nice blue blanket would come back.

Panic surged through her body. She sat up suddenly, three pairs of hands pushing her back down. She could hear voices in the background, talking about her, no doubt. She lay back down, concentrating hard on what she wanted to think. Come on, Dana, she thought, stick with it. What are you trying to think? Don't let them stop you. Stand up for yourself and think what you want to think. Soon she thought of nothing.

* * * * *

Mulder sat still in his chair, his hand grasping hers, waiting for that vital moment when she would want to know why she was there. Perhaps she knew. They told him she had woken up once or twice while they examined her and after that they had knocked her out completely. He watched her, breathing long, deep breaths in what appeared to be a peaceful sleep. Her complexion had turned to ghostly white over the past few hours. It was five a.m. He had been sitting like this for hours, rehearsing what he might say when she woke. Two hours he'd had to get it all ready for her and now, as she stirred before him, he could think of nothing to say. She opened her eyes, widening them as the light hit them. She moved her head, seeming to see everything but him.

"Scully?" He moved from the chair to sit on the bed. "Can you hear me?"

She jumped, suddenly realising the seriousness of not being in her own bed. "Mulder? Mulder, what happened to me?"

He shook his head, taking her arms in his hand and gently trying to lower he back down. "Just lie down, we can talk about it in a minute."

"No!" Her voice sounded loud in the tiny room. She pushed against him, trying her best to sit up. As she did, a sharp pain attacked her abdomen, making her light-headed and nauseous. "Mulder, tell me now. Tell me why I'm here."

He explained to her how he had found her and had driven her here. He told her of the surgery.

"And you let them?" She practically yelled at him. "Why did you let them do that? You had no right! Mulder, how could you do that? How could you let them?"

He hadn't expected such a fierce attack. He expected her to be upset at the situation, not at him. He tried talking quietly, hoping it would reduce the volume of her own voice. He tried explaining to her the seriousness of her condition, but none of it seemed possible to her.

"Mulder, yesterday I was fine! It can't be what they think it is. I've treated people with this and there are warning signs before this happens. They have to be wrong."

"That's what I need to talk to you about, Scully."

* * * * *

She'd been awful to Mulder but she couldn't help it. She wished he knew that it wasn't him she wanted to hurt. It was herself. Her own body had continued to fail her, even when she had thought that there was nothing left to fail. During her time at the hospital, Mulder had hardly left her side, even when she lay down, pretending to be asleep so that she didn't have to speak to him. She had been no friendlier to the doctor who had reiterated what Mulder had said. No cancer on her ovary, not even a cyst. They showed her the scan so that she could see the mass for herself. She understood that there could be no other explanation for her blood loss at that time and that they acted on what little information they had before them, but that didn't make her feel her loss was any more justified. They probably thought she was crazy. Why would a woman in her mid-forties care about losing an ovary? But to her it meant so much. It was as if she were taking one more step away from femininity.

Luckily for her, laproscopic surgery had allowed her to go home within a couple of days, and now that's where she sat, upstairs in their bedroom. They'd driven home in silence; Mulder probably terrified of saying yet another erroneous sentence. Reflecting on how harsh she had been to him, she thought she should apologise.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Friday 19th

"You look tired." Khai handed Mulder the glass of ice tea. He ran a hand through his hair. He'd worn the same clothes for two days whilst Scully had been in the hospital, and had only hours ago had the chance to shower and change. He let his head loll back onto the edge of the couch, barely watching the noisy television in front of him.

"I'm alright. Thank you for dinner. We didn't expect it."

"Dana doesn't want to eat?" she asked. No, she hadn't eaten, but he'd work on that. He'd put her into their bed and sat with her until she'd fallen asleep, understanding that she needed time to be angry and that he shouldn't push her yet.

He and Khai watched the television in silence as Doris Roberts chased Peter Boyle around some bogus family kitchen.

"Is there always just you two?" Khai asked him. He couldn't quite understand at first what she was asking. Then it dawned on him. She meant children. Did they have any children? It was a can of worms he didn't feel like opening for a stranger.

"Yup." He made his answer sound as flippant as he could. "Just the two of us. I don't share her with any other men – if that's what you mean." He put a smile on for her, hoping then she'd let it drop. She didn't though.

"You have no children? Never?"

"No. Have you?"

"No I do want though. Sometime. You never want?"

He leaned back again, thinking that if he cut eye contact she might get bored. "Nope."

"Mrs…I mean, Dana. She never want?"

He waited before he answered that one. It was something she had wanted so fiercely that he felt traitorous ever denying it, even more disloyal then he'd felt denying William's existence. He simply didn't answer.

When he failed to speak, Khai began again. "You make good father. Good, kind, man always make good father."

"I'm too old now." He knocked back the rest of his drink.

"In my village, when woman gets too old, man can have other children with younger woman. Man never too old. It is always woman who gets too old." She leaned in, putting a small hand on his. "You be good father."

He pulled it away. "I be an even better husband," he said, getting up.

* * * * *

No matter how hard she breathed, she couldn't get enough air into her lungs. Blood rushed to her face, shame spreading through her body in the form of a sickly heat, making her dizzy and sick. She'd meant to find Mulder and apologise. She wanted him in bed with her, even though she had done her best to push him away until now. She hadn't reached the very bottom of the stairs when she heard Khai's questions. She had stood, rooted to the spot, listening to Mulder's voice. The sensible part of her knew that he had only dismissed William because it would be too hard to explain; she could live with that. She couldn't live with the thought that Mulder had gone without children because of her. Of course, that thought had dared to creep into her head many times, but it had quickly retreated when she reminded herself that it was always her dream, not his. That's what she had thought, anyway. What if she was wrong? The voices stopped and Mulder appeared in front of her, walking across to the kitchen, stopping as he caught sight of her.

"Scully, what are you doing up?"

She thought fast. "I came to get some water." Her hands shook; visibly, it would seem. He came closer, taking her hands into his.

"You need to eat, I'll bring you something up in a minute. Go back to bed." He kissed her forehead, pausing to look at her before disappearing into the kitchen.

* * * * *

The first thing she did upstairs was look at her reflection, to see what he saw. It seemed ridiculous to think that she hadn't seen herself in two days. Now she stared at herself, horrified that she could let Mulder see her like this. She'd never been vain and she knew that Mulder had seen her looking worse, but now it seemed important that he be attracted to her. She felt the need to prove herself. To prove she could satisfy him. She grabbed an eyeliner pencil from the dresser, crudely drawing on the sill of each eye. She swiped at her lashes with the mascara and then climbed into bed again, taking off the robe, wearing only the small vest top and boxers underneath. She listened to him walking up the steps to their room, anticipating him. He walked in and straight away set a bowl down onto her bedside table. He went to speak, but stopped suddenly upon seeing her in bed. She looked away, disappointed at his reaction. Straight away he read her, sitting next to her on the bed, forcing her to face him.

"I know I look horrendous," she said, still avoiding his gaze.

"No, you don't."

"Mulder, I saw your face then. I know what you must be thinking."

"You obviously don't know what I think. I was thinking, how could you possibly be worrying about what I'm thinking right now? What on earth would make you think that I'm thinking about how you look? I'm still appreciating the fact that you're here at all."

She nodded. "I'm sorry about what happened at the hospital. I don't like not having control."

He put both hands on her, turning her body to square up with his. "They told me if I didn't sign, you would die. Hell, after they told me that, I'd have signed myself up as Kersh's rent boy." They both smiled, but the sentiment underneath was understood. She reached forward to take his lips in hers. He responded gently, not opening his mouth, pulling away after a couple of seconds. It took him by surprise when she pulled him forward, opening her mouth against him. For a few seconds they kissed, until her hand reached forward into his lap. He flinched in surprise, withdrawing from her kiss, his hand reaching to stop hers. "Scully, you need to eat. I'll go get you anything you want, but you have to start eating again." She recoiled from his, grabbing her hand away.

"It's okay, Mulder, don't feel responsible for me. I'll be fine." She winced as she climbed out of bed, walking into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her.

He waited a few minutes, wanting to explain himself. As the flow of water began from behind the door, he accepted defeat. If she was mad with him she'd be in there for a while. He made his way back downstairs.

* * * * *

He sat alone. Khai had gone to bed early, and he dreaded going upstairs. He was an asshole. The woman he loved had just had another part of her femininity taken from her; no wonder she'd reached out for him. She must feel wretched inside. Wretched and undesirable. No good to anyone. Add that to the fact that they'd had to pump her with medication that would send her hormones bouncing and it would have led to her wanting some kind of sexual comfort. Even if only to re-establish herself as a woman. And what had he done? He'd shoved her away. He hadn't meant to but he had been so afraid of hurting her that he'd wanted to stop anything before it started. He needed to go and put it all right.

* * * * *

He took off every bit of clothing, sliding in behind her and wrapping his upper body around her, careful not to touch any part of her abdomen. When she didn't respond, he pulled one of the thin vest straps off her shoulder, planting an open mouthed kiss on her shoulder. He continued down her back, pulling the material up so that his mouth lay on bare flesh. Eventually she rolled onto her back.

"I'm still mad at you." She turned her head away, failing to disguise her tear streaked cheeks.

"I know and I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. I guess I still think you're pretty fragile. It was insensitive of me to pull away from you." Okay, maybe that wasn't entirely the right thing to say. It sounded like he thought he should have continued with her just to make her happy. Out of pity. She turned away from him again.

"Forget it, Mulder. I wouldn't want to come near me either. You don't owe me anything. Good night." He placed a hand on her shoulder until she shrugged it off coldly. He became angry, the type of anger only she could elicit from him due to the intensity of his feelings for her. He grabbed her again, pulling her back over, mentally chastising himself as he heard her gasp from the pain. He raised his voice, hoping to drive home to her the seriousness of his feelings.

"I'd do anything for this not to be happening to you. I'd do anything to change lots of things that have happened to you, but you can't just shut me out. I know you're angry with them for doing this to you and for no reason in the end. I know you're angry with me for signing the consent form but you couldn't see yourself, Scully. When they said that you were still alive, I couldn't believe how lucky you'd been, how lucky we'd been. When they said it would happen again unless I signed that form, I couldn't sign it quick enough. Because you're everything to me!"

She stared at him, watching his chest heave as he caught his breath. He seldom raised his voice to her, but when he did she hardly ever argued back. Not when he was this angry, this upset. Finally she spoke, hoisting herself to a similar sitting position to what he had taken. They sat, shoulders touching, her hand sliding over his.

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I just need to adjust to this."

"You might not need to adjust. They told you at the hospital that the risk of side effects is greatly reduced because they only took one. We could be doing this for nothing." His voice was softer as he gripped her hand.

"I know, Mulder. I just hate the thought of things changing between us."

"What would change?"

"The removal of ovaries can be linked with irritability, depression and weight gain..." She surprised herself mentioning weight gain. She had never been a particularly vain person, but suddenly it mattered to her how others would see her. She continued talking, even when he shook his head. "…Honestly, Mulder I've seen women go through these things."

He moved, sitting so that he could face her. "Okay, first of all, you're irritable anyway. Secondly, I can't see you having time to get depressed," he continued talking even though he watched her open her mouth ready to lecture him on depression, "thirdly, you could gain a hundred pounds and I wouldn't care." He grinned at her through his last statement, tugging the small lilac vest upward, grateful when she raised her arms and let him pull it over her head. She moved herself round to face him. Any doubts she had minutes before disappeared as he moved closer, kissing her slowly, waiting for her to participate. For an age they seemed to sit there, gently teasing each other, taking it in turns to prove their affection for one another.

She let her hand wander down into his lap, relieved to find him hard, proof that he still wanted her. He groaned into her mouth, revelling in the feel of her touching him. He deepened the kiss, moaning over and over at the feel of her hand stroking him up and down, altering the pressure of her ministrations on each down stroke. Their kissing became frantic, his hands in her hair, his lips tugging forcefully at hers, pulling her forward then forcing her back. He laughed into her mouth, reaching a hand down to remove hers. Remembering what happened before, he quickly explained himself. "Gotta stop," he said between kisses, "I'll make a mess."

She laughed back into him, feeling him leaning against her, pushing her backwards until he could climb on top of her. An uneasy feeling surged through her. "Mulder, we can't…"

"I know. It's fine," he said, not moving from his mouth from its position on her throat. His kisses descended lower until his lips tugged gently at one of her nipples, sucking just hard enough to make her moan. Not the deep loud noises she'd make when they were in the final throes, but the higher pitched, breathy noises that told him that he'd started to put her on her way. He spent a long time doing this, his mouth playing against one breast while his hand cupped the other, splayed fingers teasing the nipple that mounted it. He knew she loved this but would soon become oversensitive and sore. He moved back up to her mouth, kissing her again. As he leaned back, sitting on his heels, she also propped herself up on her elbows. He watched her face as he moved back again, kissing the knee that had been drawn up as she'd attempted to sit. Another kiss, lower this time. All the time he watched her face, seeing her close her eyes and let her head fall back, knowing what he wanted to do.

"Mulder, it's okay…"

"You don't want me to?"

"I want you to…don't think I can. I'm starting to ache."

"Will you take a rain check then?" He persisted, backing off a little as he watched her face. "What?" he asked.

She was almost ashamed to say it. "Another side effect is loss of sex drive." She turned her head away, attempting to bury it in the covers. Sex was a big part of their relationship, not the defining factor, but the physical attraction was high up there with the emotional one. She knew Mulder wasn't a shallow person, and most of the time if she didn't feel up to it he'd only whine playfully at her, never get cross or upset. But when did she ever want to put off sex with Mulder? Not often. She felt defensive as all of a sudden he laughed at her. She shook her head and attempted to push herself up.

"I'm sorry, Scully, I'm not laughing at you." He took her shoulders in his hands, helping to pull her upright as she struggled, clutching her abdomen. "Okay, firstly, it's only a small possibility. If it does happen we can either work on it or leave it, depending on what you want. Sometimes we have sex four times a week; it wouldn't kill us to knock it down to twice now and again if we had to." She laughed, which he felt happy about. It had probably been difficult for her to bring any of these problems to the fore, and it made him think that maybe she wasn't as secure as she always seemed. "The worst is over, Scully. We'll be okay now, I promise you."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Tuesday 23rd

The week had dragged painfully. Scully had spent the first two or three days trying to get down the stairs on her own, eventually accepting help from Mulder, letting him carry her and place her in front of the television, an entity she had begun to crave having holed herself away reading for too long. She had been grateful to him for his company, knowing that the television alone had never been enough to sustain her. It and Khai could entertain her for only short periods, whereas Mulder usually brought his writing in to her, or, even better, a few case files that Skinner had requested he look at. By the fourth day, Mulder announced that he would be going to D.C to see Skinner. While he was there he planned to find out a little more about Khai and her case. He didn't mind having her there – she was no trouble – but Scully needed privacy to recover, and he couldn't imagine that the girl herself felt comfortable with the arrangement. That said, Khai had been good to them, preparing meals for them both at different times, depending on Mulder's schedule and Scully's sleep pattern. He had told her not to, that he could take care of it, but she had insisted it as payment for their generosity.

He had arrived at D.C by nine, meeting with Skinner at the Bureau. It always felt strange walking those corridors, but as his face became more frequent, the strange looks from other agents occurred less often. Apparently, Khai's case had been delayed. All of the girls bar one had since committed suicide. The authorities were getting closer to apprehending Jenson, too. Mulder had requested that he take a copy of the medical file home for Scully to look over, knowing how bored she would be with simply Khai and bad daytime TV for company.

* * * * *

She felt well. Better than she'd felt since she'd been to hospital. She hadn't eaten yet, but drank water by the gallon and even managed to get herself downstairs. Mulder had left too early to help her down, but today it seemed no obstacle could stop her. Khai could be hard work, she had found. As nice a person as she was, willing to help out around the house and always polite, she bordered on dull. She had little to say to Scully, unlike Mulder, whom she would chat with into the night. She felt determined that tonight she would wait up for Mulder to come home. It was now eight and she hadn't eaten since lunch. Khai had offered to cook several times but Scully had said that she would have whatever she and Mulder were having. Eventually, Khai had eaten and gone to bed, something that Scully felt secretly happy about. It seemed like forever since she and Mulder had fallen asleep together on the couch in front of the television. She jumped at the sound of the door, the cold air gushing in and prickling her skin.

"Wow, you're still down here?" Mulder left his things next to the door, removing his coat and taking a seat next to her. As he sat, she reached over briskly and kissed him. This was not her usual welcome home kiss; it was the type of kiss that promised more. When she leaned back again, he looked dazed.

"Someone's feeling better I take it?" He grinned. "Were you waiting up for me?"

"No, the pizza man," she shot back, getting up and heading into the kitchen.

"Scully, you're walking. That's great! Is it the medication?"

"I don't know, but dinner's in here. Khai's a great cook; I ate one of the meals she left for you today. She offered to get me something else but I'd already had half of yours. She makes great food, Mulder; I'm surprised you haven't run away with her. She definitely likes you."

"She probably likes anybody who isn't going to beat her, after the ordeal she's been through. Anyway, you're already trained. A new woman would have to accept my flaws." He grinned.

"Your current woman isn't thrilled about them," she said, light-heartedly. They sat and ate, as if the last few days had never happened.

After, as Scully got up to clear the dishes, Mulder rose too, taking them from her. "I went to see Doggett and Reyes on the way home; that's why I'm so late. Monica is coming up tomorrow."

"Really?" He picked up a hint of worry in her voice.

"You okay with that? I thought you'd want to see her."

"I do; I just wish it wasn't a time when I looked like crap. I do feel so much better though. I think I can get ready myself tomorrow. You're free from dressing duties."

"But I don't mind that, Scully. I can do taking off the clothes; it's the washing of the clothes and the ironing of the clothes I can't manage. Are you ready for bed? Because you took a rain check yesterday that expires by midnight."

* * * * *

"You alright?" He breathed out heavily, climbing back up her body. She lay with her head in the pillow, as she always did after they'd done it. Even now, after all these years, the act still made her self-conscious. She didn't know why; she never felt particularly shy after they'd had sex. Maybe it was something to do with the fact that this particular act was all about her. He was so different to any other man she'd ever been with. Most other men she'd slept with saw this type of foreplay as a chore, a job to be carried out so that she would do the same to them in return. With Mulder, it was always different, like she was the centre of the universe. Like it was his mission to make her happy, to meet her needs. She could count on one hand the number of times he'd let himself finish inside her mouth, usually pulling her away whenever he felt himself getting too close.

He propped himself up above her, his hands playing in her hair, as he waited for eye contact. "You alright?" he repeated.

She cracked a smile, still pulling the pillow into her cheek. "I'm always alright after that." She opened her eyes, watching as he moved his face closer, his mouth descending onto hers. She felt fantastic, euphoric even. As he leaned into her, she could feel his erection nudging her opening. Another surge of excitement buzzed through her at the thought of him being inside her, loving her that way now as well. She deepened the kiss, opening her mouth across his, pulling him deeper into her. She snaked a hand down into his boxers, causing him to groan loudly, leaning into her touch, stroking himself into her hand. Eventually he put a hand over hers, removing it from his engorged cock.

"Hey, tease. You know we can't yet." He rolled onto his back, sliding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him. Of course they couldn't; she didn't know what she'd been thinking. But she wanted him so much. She wanted to please him, to make him feel what she had felt only minutes ago. As he hugged her to him, she pulled herself over his body, straddling his thighs with hers. She placed small kisses on his chest, watching as he threw his head back, exposing the flesh of his throat. Seizing her opportunity, she worked her way up, biting down and sucking hard on the sensitive flesh below his jaw. He moved his head quickly, catching her with his mouth. Once released, his mouth let out ragged breaths.

"You're so fucking hot. Oh God, Scully, what are you doing?" he asked, feeling her kisses disappear for a moment, only to re-emerge at his navel. His eyes slammed closed at the feel of her mouth on his cock, half-heartedly attempting to distract the part of his brain that seemed to tell his body to surrender, to lose control. How many nights, years ago, had he lain awake in bed, imagining her doing this to him? He couldn't count. And yet the first time she did this to him, for him, he'd experienced nerves. Not for her. She could have stopped half way through and played the fucking banjo and he'd still be ecstatic. No, the nerves were for him and how he couldn't imagine her doing this without him exploding after about five seconds.

Somewhere along the line his staying power had obviously improved, because he'd lasted ten whole minutes now. He'd have to stop her soon; he was nearing the point of no return. For the first time he realised that both of his hands had made their way into her hair, each one taking a fistful of the dark red strands. He loosened his grip, putting a hand around her upper arm and gently tugging her toward him. She shrugged his hand away, continuing the careful ministrations with her mouth. He tried again, this time endeavouring to sit up.

"Scully, stop…Scully, I'm real close now." His attempt to stop her was soon thwarted with a firm hand on his chest, shoving him back down. An irritated grunt emerged from her, the vibration of her voice causing him to jump, his hips snapping up towards her mouth. Now he got it. He moved his other hand from her hair, gripping a handful of duvet instead, knowing any second now he'd need something to clutch onto.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Wednesday 24th

He kissed her goodbye without waking her. He had a busy day ahead of him, meeting with Carter at eight and then driving to consult with Skinner at lunch. Lai had already begun cooking when he woke, offering him breakfast on his way out. She seemed quiet, thoughtful, somewhat discontented. After Scully's operation, he'd spent much of his time either working or upstairs with her and this had visibly upset Lai's routine of watching TV with him for a few hours during the day. At first, he had wanted to ask Skinner to take her somewhere else, but now Scully seemed on the mend, and secretly he liked someone else being there on the chance that she had some kind of relapse.

* * * * *

The fresh air felt great to Scully. It had been nearly a week since she had been outside and when Monica suggested they take a walk, she'd jumped at the chance.

"So, what's the story with Ming Lei?" Monica half joked.

"Lai?" Scully laughed. "She's a key witness in a sex trafficking case. We're hiding her here until the case comes to trial. She's alright; a little quiet, but I guess that's to be expected."

They both stayed silent for a little longer as they walked. Monica had been her closest female friend for years. She usually felt comfortable talking to her about most things but today she held back – and Monica sensed it.

"What?" she probed her.

"It's nothing really." Scully stopped for a second, thinking about her next statement. "She's here at a funny time. It's not her fault."

"What do you mean?"

"It was Will's birthday last week."

"I know."

"I forgot. No, I didn't even forget. I'd readied myself for it and somehow it slipped my mind. Mulder remembered; God knows what he must think of me." She looked at Monica, whom she realised was waiting for her to continue. "I wondered if this…" she motioned at her abdomen, "…was some kind of punishment for forgetting. Did Mulder tell you what they did?"

Monica nodded.

"They didn't find a thing, Monica. Not a thing. Now I feel like another part of me is missing. Coupled with the fact that Mulder has suddenly become the most virile man on the planet…" she paused again, feeling embarrassed at letting that slip out, "I guess I feel like maybe I can't keep up, that I'm not enough now. Having Lai around just reminds me of the fact that I'm getting older and at some point Mulder might realise that he could have a different life with someone else."

Now Monica stopped her. "You're kidding right?"

"What?"

"He wants you and life can fit around it. It's obvious. It's always been obvious, even when you were pregnant. He might not have ever even entertained the thought of kids before you mentioned it. I promise you, it's a waste of energy thinking like this."

Scully smiled then, realising that her words were accurate and they continued their walk talking about happier things, like the puppy John was getting for his birthday but didn't know it.

* * * * *

"Hey! Where is everybody?" Mulder pushed the door open, his Armani suit stifling him beyond belief, even with the shirtsleeves rolled up.

"Hi, Fox. You have good day?" Lai emerged from her room.

He smiled at her, putting down his briefcase. "I did, thanks. Where's Scully?" She needn't have answered as he looked up toward the voices coming from upstairs. As he opened the door, the strangest sight met him: Scully and Monica scrounging around on the floor. He coughed loudly, getting their attention simultaneously.

"Is it wrong that I'm slightly turned on by this?" he said, getting the rolled eyes from Scully and a startled jump from Monica, making her bang her head on the underside of the bed. "What are you doing?" he asked.

Scully sat back on her heels. "Looking for the earring." She never called it her earring, because it wasn't.

"Still?" he asked, controlling his voice so that she couldn't hear his disappointment.

"Mulder, I know I had it on when we went to bed. I know it." As she sat back, she felt a dull ache in her stomach. He put his hands on her sides, helping her to her feet. "Whatever you're doing, you shouldn't be on the floor. I'm surprised you're out of bed."

"Don't be." Monica also got to her feet. "She's a mobile woman now. We did a whole hour walking today." Mulder looked at Monica, then at Scully.

"Are you sure you should be doing all this?"

"Mulder, I'm fine. Tomorrow I'll have a look downstairs, I just don't understand…" Then she really clutched at herself, feeling a nasty sting in her groin. She lowered herself onto the bed before Mulder could swoop in. Maybe this recovery would take longer then she had imagined.

* * * * *

Although Monica had said her goodbyes to Scully, she lingered in the kitchen with Mulder, carefully watching as Lai pottered around them. When she asked if they could talk in private, Mulder told Lai that she had already done far too much and that she should watch television. Monica then went on to relay the conversation they'd had out on the field. Mulder couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. How could Scully think he was so fickle? She must know that none of what happened mattered to him. Monica had gone silent, as if waiting for him to confirm that he wasn't the shallow bastard Scully had feared he was. He felt slightly angry and in the moment admitted something to Monica he never had to anyone else.

"That night, when I went to her apartment…she wanted an answer. I only went because she wanted an answer. Christ, it was like the biggest compliment anyone had ever paid me. I had a beautiful, smart woman telling me she wanted to give me a child. Okay, she saw it more as me doing her the favour, but who was I kidding? I knew the facts and Scully was handing me an opportunity I should have been grateful for. You want to know what a selfish bastard I am? For every moment leading up to my answer, I was ready to say no. No to giving her what she wanted. No to my only chance to ever leave a part of me behind. I was ready to say no, because I didn't want to lose her. I didn't want anything to come between us and what we had. I didn't want to share her. Now what does that say about me?" He couldn't look at her. These were feelings he'd never shared with anyone before. He felt ashamed that they were strong enough to even voice. He finally looked at her, waiting for judgement.

"I think," Monica breathed out slowly, "that you need to tell her this." She held a hand up as he went to protest. "Not all of it, but the part where you make it clear that you want her more then anything. She needs that now."

"I tell her all the time."

"Then she probably already knows deep down, but this situation has freed new demons…or old ones."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Thursday 25th

Scully woke in the early hours. She had jumped in fright at the dark shadow that had loomed over her. In a second it vanished, but she held her breath all the same, scanning the room for its presence. She took the glass of water from the nightstand, gulping it down until she felt sick. She rolled over, meeting the broad expanse of Mulder's bare back. She pressed herself against him, wrapping an arm over his waist. Within seconds, his hand went to hers, pulling it up to his mouth. She fell back to sleep.

* * * * *

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh God, Mulder! Oh my God!" She opened her eyes as her shoulders lifted off the mattress. Mulder had grabbed her arms, pulling her forward and shaking her very gently. She stopped screaming, at first unable to connect that unfamiliar shriek with herself.

"Scully? Scully, can you hear me?" Mulder's voice immediately calmed her. He gently lowered her back down, sitting up, stroking her hair. "I didn't think you were going to stop. What was that about?"

She looked at him, confused. "I don't remember," she panted. She watched him rub his eyes. "I'm sorry, Mulder, I know you have to work tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it; I worked with you for nine years on four hours a night. It's not that. You sounded like you were in horrific pain."

"I don't remember," she said again. He lay down, wrapping himself around her.

* * * * *

She woke with a start, opening her eyes wide as a blurry arm came into her vision. It was her blurry arm. Beyond the arm lay the rest of the room. She felt cold, sensing Mulder's absence from the other side of the bed. Her head pounded, pain filling the space behind her eyes. She felt like hell. She felt worse than hell. She rolled onto her back, quickly shielding her eyes from the sun's burning rays. After several attempts to sit up, she flopped back down. She felt so sick. Every time she moved she could feel the nausea arriving at the bottom of her throat. She reached for her glass of water, amazed there was any left. It seemed she'd been drinking endlessly during the night. Her cell phone buzzed at the other end of the room. It would be Mulder, she was sure of it. She rolled over again, sitting up quickly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed in an effort to get up before she was sick. No sooner had she stood than she had fallen. Her body slammed against the carpeted floor as the phone relentlessly continued. Eventually, she managed to crawl her way across to the table where her phone lay. If this ended up being anyone but Mulder, she'd be pissed. She flipped the front up and pressed 'accept'.

"Mulder, is that you?"

"Scully? What took you so long? Are you alright?"

"No. I feel awful, Mulder. I can't stand up."

"Do you want me to come home? I can get you a doctor-"

"No, Mulder, I'm sure it'll be okay. You didn't wake me to tell me you were going." She hated herself for the accusatory tone in her voice.

"I know, I'm in D.C. They want me here all week, but I won't stay over. I'll just come back."

"What are you doing over there?"

"I'm at Violent Crimes as we speak. You'd love this one, Scully. I'll bring you along if you're feeling better tomorrow."

"What about Khai?" She'd almost got her hopes up until she remembered that Khai couldn't be left alone.

"I don't know; maybe we can get some cover for her. I wont be home until real late tonight; are you sure you don't want me to call you a doctor?"

"Mulder, I can call myself a doctor if it gets any worse. I promise."

They said their goodbyes and she slowly returned to bed. She closed her eyes, drifting off to thoughts of Mulder's voice, always concerned for her, always ready to show the depth of his feelings for her. If only the dreams she slept through had been so heartening.

* * * * *

"Khai, is that you?" She opened her eyes, reaching a hand forward.

"Mrs Scully, you scream very loudly. I bring you more water. Do you want to eat?"

"No," she replied quickly, the thought of food repulsing her. She did, however, extend a hand to take the water.

"What time is it?" she asked, replacing the glass on the table.

"It is after lunch time. Maybe you should sleep some more."

"Are you okay, Khai? I'm sorry I'm not much company."

"It is okay, I watch TV," Khai replied. Scully lay back down, closing her eyes again, letting the darkness envelope her.

* * * * *

Mulder sat back, emptying the contents of the Styrofoam cup into his mouth. Two women living in the same apartment complex who were killed months apart made up the case. Both were killed in similar circumstances, being raped, stabbed to death and disembowelled after death. So far, no one had come up with so much as a hair, and from what Mulder could gather, they'd looked hard. He looked at his watch again, knowing that if he left now he'd be home by nine. He hadn't been overly worried when he left, only bothered by the horrendous nightmares she seemed to experience in the night. He was far more concerned about how she sounded on the phone. That made his mind up. He gathered the files and left.

* * * * *

The black figure had returned. In her dreams, it flitted from corner to corner, room to room. Mulder sat in the corner, facing away from her. She'd called him to her many times, begging for his arms to hold her, for him to forgive her. Every time, he ignored her, instead responding to the shadow that returned to him every now and again. He liked the shadow, from what she could tell. He took the shadow's hand, stroked it, until it fled again, leaving a trail of black wisp behind it. She screamed at him, begging him to come to her, unable to move to him herself. Eventually, she climbed out of the bed, crawling towards him, every movement torture.

When she finally made it to him, she pulled at his clothes, desperate for his attention. "Please, Mulder," she implored him, "please forgive me. Don't hurt me like this." She pulled at him, watching his body flop like a rag doll. She dragged herself to the front of him, awaiting the sight of his face, only for her hopes to turn to horror. She got up, stumbling round and round, unable to find his face, just the back of his head over and over. She felt a presence behind her, the hand belonging to the shadow slipping across her shoulder. She wanted to scream but no sound would emerge from her mouth. She wanted to strike out, to hit it, but her arms were limp.

Her hand collided full force with Mulder's chest, her own voice bringing her back to the land of the living.

"Scully? Scully, are you awake?" He gripped her shoulders, attempting to hold her away from him as she fisted at his chest. She was screaming. She had thought it was someone else, but it was she making the most horrible noise, striking out at him over and over. Soon she slumped away, limp as he gathered her up and carried her back to bed. The motion of being lifted made her nauseous again, and she quickly slipped away as he put her down, running into the bathroom just in time for her guts to wrench. She stayed in there until she was sure there was nothing else. The last thing Mulder needed after a long day at work was the sight of her stomach contents on the carpet. When she emerged, he was sat on the bed.

"I called a doctor," he said, getting up to pick her up again. "Why'd you lock the door?"

She put her hands to her face as her forehead began to ache again. "Force of habit, I guess," she replied. "I wouldn't have thought it would be something you wanted to see."

"I wanted to make sure you were alright," he snapped. "Anyway." He ran a hand through his hair. "That's nothing compared to what I've stared at all day long. Why don't I take you downstairs when the doctor leaves and I can talk to you while I make dinner? When did you last eat?" he asked.

"Yesterday, before Monica left."

* * * * *

Khai didn't do her usual disappearing act. Tonight she stayed where she was on the sofa; not the one of the arm chairs either, but the actual sofa. The doctor had examined Scully and put everything down to a virus of some kind, probably much more dramatic because of the low immunity she would be experiencing. He only seemed worried about the fact that she hadn't eaten. Mulder assured him that that wouldn't be a problem anymore. But now all Scully wanted to do was lie on the sofa and fall asleep listening to Mulder. Khai didn't move, meaning while Mulder could put Scully on the other end of the sofa, he seemed relegated to the armchair, not that he really seemed to mind. He handed her photocopies of the case file and left to heat something up in the oven. She held the file vertically so as not to let Khai see any of the more gory photographs.

Finally, Mulder emerged from the kitchen, dropping down into the armchair next to Scully. They sat and chatted for a while about the case, changing the subject once they had food in front of them. Khai refused any, saying that she had already eaten, but still she did not go to bed. Eventually, Scully yawned loud enough to indicate to Mulder she was done. She wondered what Khai did alone in the house all day long, apart from cook for Mulder. In truth, she hardly made her presence known, and knowing where she had come from, Scully assumed she was grateful of the peace and security of a safe home.

* * * * *

She pulled herself up in bed, lifting the vest over her head, leaving her completely naked. She heard the water form the bathroom cease, knowing Mulder would be out any time soon. She dragged the covers over her, hoping she looked better then she had hours ago when she was puking her guts out for all the world to hear. Soon the bathroom door opened and Mulder emerged in his boxers, rubbing his hair dry in quick successive swipes.

"I've asked Carter to stop by over the next few days. He wants to use the office and I know I'd prefer it if someone came by during the day. It'll only be until Monday, and then he and I have a meeting over in Chicago. I won't go if you're like this though." He walked over to the other side of the bed, having changed sides with Scully in case she got sick again. As he climbed in, his body jerked at the feel of her hot skin pressed up against him. She wrapped a leg over his, rubbing her sex against his thigh. He responded immediately, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other going above her head, resting on the pillow.

"What is it?" he asked, sensing the urgency in her touch.

"I had a bad dream." She didn't elaborate. "This is nice. I like this." She buried her face deeper into his chest; in turn he pulled her tighter to him.

"Me too," he said, meaning it.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Friday 26th

She slept all day long; the only time she woke was to eat the meals Khai brought to her. She slept, ate and drank water by the gallon. She desperately wanted to be awake for when Mulder came home. However, her sleep seemed to sap the energy from her; the dreams she experienced left her shaking as she woke. She heard Carter's voice downstairs and hoped he would come up to see her. Anything to make her sure she was not still dreaming. She'd had many dreams where she roamed the house, feeling happy and recovered, only to find herself back in bed when she woke feeling awful.

Carter's face peered around the door. "You decent?" he called. "Or is my luck in?"

She held her abdomen as she laughed, feeling it twinge and ache. He stayed for over two hours, mainly talking about Mulder and his latest book. Carter was pleased with it but it was still in embryonic form, still far too raw to be sent away. When he left, she laid her head back down on the pillow, not quite understanding how two hours of listening could make her feel so drowsy.

Saturday 27th

When she woke it was morning. She tapped Mulder's side of the bed, feeling nothing but the made up sheets. How could she have missed him coming in? A note lay at her bedside.

"Didn't want to wake you this morning, you hardly slept all night. I'll see you tonight."

Again, she spent the day in bed, waking for food, water and the occasional bathroom break. She'd heard her cell phone a few times, but on questioning Khai, found it was simply another dream. Carter came over again, staying for only an hour this time. She slept.

* * * * *

Upon waking alone, she panicked. It had to be late; no light came from outside and the only sounds were the ones old houses made. She managed to get out of bed and stand up, walking to the stairs. As she looked down, her vision shook, making her suddenly wary of descending, feeling as if she would fall. Instead, she sat, lowering herself down one step at a time. She only got half way and recognised Mulder's sleeping form, slumped in a sitting position. Khai was also sleeping, leaning into him so that her head rested against his chest. At first she felt numb. Then rage and jealousy began to burn her. Why wasn't Mulder in bed with her? Why had he chosen to stay downstairs? Could he possibly sleep without feeling her at his side? Surely not, seeing as how Mulder was the lightest sleeper she'd ever known. She turned herself around, momentarily fretting about getting back up the stairs. She might need Mulder's help, but she burned far too much inside to ask for it. She'd rather do it the long way than have to face him now.

Sunday 28th

The day started out the same. She woke alone, with no note this time. It seemed like days since she had seen Mulder properly. Carter came by, but this time he brought her cell to her.

"It was ringing when I came in," he said.

"Where did you find it?" she asked.

"It was downstairs in the kitchen. I didn't answer it."

She looked through her missed calls, finding, to her disappointment, Skinner's number, not Mulder's. He'd left a message, stating that someone would be coming by to collect Khai for a few hours to take her back to the warehouse, hoping to jog her memory. As she listened, Carter made himself comfortable, sitting on the bed, flicking through a book that rested on the nightstand.

"Do you mind if I call Mulder?" he asked. "I just want to get it straight about tomorrow."

She handed him the cell. "It's fine. I wouldn't mind talking to Mulder myself." She waited patiently until Carter had finished, then took the phone as he held it out to her.

"Hey you, how you feeling?" She couldn't help but feel better at the sound of his voice.

"Fine," she said, not sure yet what she wanted to say. "Why didn't you come to bed last night?" she blurted out.

"I don't know what happened last night. I got back around seven. I came to check on you and you were sleeping okay for once. I ate dinner, and I don't remember much else. I woke up at around four in the morning." He finished, but she didn't say anything more.

"What about the night before?" Carter looked uncomfortable but she was way too wound up to let it go.

"What about the night before?" he asked.

"Mulder, you never make an empty bed, let alone one that someone's still sleeping in."

"I came to bed, Scully. I left early enough to beat the morning traffic."

"I found you with Khai last night."

"Khai? What are you talking about? Scully…"

"Look, Mulder, if you don't want to be here, don't be. Stay out there like you planned to before. " She cut the phone off before he could say anymore. Inside, she felt guilty for not giving him the chance to defend himself. Carter's look told her the same.

"You found him in bed with that girl? Jesus, I'm surprised he's not having his balls extracted from his abdomen!"

"I didn't find them in bed together. I found them on the couch."

"They did it on your couch?" Now she could tell by the tone of his voice he knew that wasn't the whole story. He was teasing, trying to find out the real story. She explained what she had seen. Carter immediately shook his head.

"There's no way on this earth he'd do that."

"I know. I just need to be mad right now. I'll talk to him he later, if he comes home."

"He will come home." Carter assured her.

* * * * *

No sooner had Carter left than Skinner's men arrived to take Khai off. By then, Scully had enlisted Carter's help in getting her downstairs so that she could have a few hours in another part of the house. She wandered around, tidying up and wiping surfaces, anything to feel useful again. The house smelled funny, like incense or something similar. She followed the source of the smell into Khai's room. She hesitated in the doorway, feeling a pang of shame in going in. She went anyway, shocked at how feminine it had become. Everything Scully had given her was positioned neatly on the bedside table; a heap of clothes lay in the corner. She decided to take them and put them through the washer; surely Khai wouldn't complain about returning home to clean, washed clothes. She bent down and scooped the clothes up, dropping a small dark item as she walked across to the kitchen. She dumped everything else on the worktop and went back for it.

The material was wafer thin and dark. Her eyes widened as she realised it was hers from the other night. She hadn't thrown it away after all; she was sure she had left it in the bathroom. How had it ended up in Khai's room? A million good reasons zipped through her mind. Mulder had probably washed it as he had done all the washing over the last week, and put it in with Khai's things by mistake. Maybe Khai had taken it because she liked it? But one nasty scenario kept resurfacing. No, it wouldn't be that. It couldn't be.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Mulder picked up his cell. "Mulder."

"It's Carter. What do you want to do tomorrow? Shall I drive us?"

Mulder pulled up at the gates, getting out to open them. "I'll come get you and take us. Is there any way we can get back earlier than six? If Scully's no better, I'm taking her back to the hospital on Monday. How did she seem to you?"

"Tired," Carter replied. "Seriously washed out. Pissed at you though. Please tell me you're not screwing around with the lodger."

"No!" he said defensively. "Scully mentioned something, but I assume she dreamed it. She's pretty out of it all the time."

"She seemed pretty with it to me today."

"I'm finding her on the floor instead of in bed. She screams her head off through the night and sleeps right through. I phoned her doctor who said it could be the medication." He stopped, wanting to say more, but that would mean explaining more of their personal lives, and he didn't feel up to it right now.

* * * * *

"Hey, you." He rocked her gently until she came to. "I thought I'd check in. How you feeling?"

"Tired." She rubbed at her face. "Which is ridiculous seeing as though I'm in bed most of the day."

"What happened with Khai at the warehouse?" Mulder asked, suddenly wishing he hadn't. After her dream, he knew Khai wasn't the flavour of the month at the moment.

"Apparently she didn't say much. They're hoping the trial will be in a week or so, but it depends if they find Jenson. They seem to think they will." She quickly changed the subject. "I've been up and about today. Did you give Khai anymore of my clothes?"

Mulder shook his head. "No, why?"

"Did you do any laundry for her?" Again, he shook his head. "Mulder, I found an item of my clothing in her room in with her clothes."

"Maybe you gave it to her."

"No, I didn't. I wouldn't have given her this." She scooted to the end of the bed, getting up and shakily walking over to the wardrobe. She plucked out the black camisole.

"That was in Khai's room? Are you sure? I could have sworn you put it back in here the morning after."

"I can't remember, but I definitely didn't give it to her."

He shrugged. "I don't know then. Maybe she liked it."

"I thought of that, but she'd have to have looked for it . . ."

He could sense the confusion on her face, and quickly took it off her, guiding her back to bed. "I'm coming to bed early tonight. Okay? We can talk then."

**Monday 30****th**

She had missed this feeling. The warmth of his body wrapped around her, pulling her into him. She lay awake for another hour, watching his face as he lay in total peace. She knew it wouldn't be long before he had to get up. She pulled herself closer to him, placing one of his hands against her breast, and using her other hand to trace a line down his chest and into his boxers. She put her lips against his, sighing as her hand found him hard already. He responded within seconds, pushing himself further into her hand. His mouth opened to her, his hand gently kneading her breast, dragging his thumb over the taught nipple. He groaned into her mouth as she stroked him faster, pulling him toward her entrance. He rolled on top of her, nudging her legs open with his knee and placing himself between her legs, his mouth never leaving hers. Again she pulled him against her, urging him forward, not wanting to wait.

"We okay to do this?" he asked, moving his mouth from hers to make a wet trail along her throat. She took his hand, placing at her opening, letting him feel how ready she was for him. He easily slid his fingers inside her, groaning again at the feel of her slick hot walls, and how they'd feel around him when he slid inside her. "Did you start without me?" He laughed, moving his mouth lower, to her clavicle.

"I've been awake for an hour, wondering whether you'd want to do it or not." She sighed dramatically. He laughed again, looking her straight in the eyes. He positioned his hips against hers, hovering his mouth above hers he whispered, "if it hurts, we can stop. I don't mind." She nodded in agreement before he kissed her again. He pushed gently into her, careful as he retreated, and pushed again. It took one more time before he filled her, burying himself to the hilt, feeling her stretch around him. He looked down at her. "Okay?" he asked.

"It's good, Mulder, you can move." He moved only slightly, testing her to see how much was too much. She put a hand on his chest as if she were controlling his movement. Every stroke elicited a puff of air from his lungs as he screwed his eyes in concentration. Soon the gentle strokes turned to hard thrusts and a twinge of pain caused her to gasp. He opened his eyes, sensing her discomfort. She immediately put her hands on his ass and drove him forward.

"It's okay, Mulder, I'm fine." He slowed right down watching her face for further signs of distress. "Go ahead, it's good." He didn't speed up again, watching her face carefully, controlling every stroke. He almost found it laughable how a woman would need to concentrate so much to get an orgasm, when most men had to concentrate not to. Scully was no different. He'd watch her face, her brow knitting in concentration, as he'd hit the right spot. Once she was close, her face would soften, a broad smile forming for a short time, before disappearing as her orgasm hit, leaving her out of control, pleading with him not to stop. "Mulder." Her voice bought him back to the present, urging him to go faster.

He was sure they shouldn't, that it was too soon after her operation. But she had other ideas, bringing her knee up against his elbow, nudging his arm out of the way. "Mulder, everything's fine," she pleaded, bringing her mouth up to his. He went against his better instincts, ignoring the tiny voice in the back of his brain, telling him everything was definitely not fine.

* * * * *

"Mulder? It's Monica. I've been ringing your cell for an hour, where have you been?"

He pulled the car up outside the front gate, turning down the radio.

"Monica? Yeah, I lost reception a while ago. Is everything alright?"

"No, you need to get to the hospital."

Alarm spread through his body, making his face hot and his hands tremble. "What happened? I just got home…"

"No!" She cut him off. "Don't go in there. It's okay, Skinner collected Khai. Just come to the hospital now."

* * * * *

He shoved through the heavy double doors, sending them flying backward as he picked up the pace, terrified of what lay ahead. She must be alive; Monica would have told him otherwise, wouldn't she? He reached the front desk, avoiding the handful of people with the decency to wait their turn. "I'm looking for Dana Scully…" He didn't have to look far, as Monica's voice travelled across the room. He turned on his heel, striding over to her, cutting through the congestion of the waiting room. "What happened to her? Tell me she's alright."

"She's alright." She answered him, placing a hand on his arm. "As far as they can tell, she's fine. You need to come with me."

* * * * *

He couldn't take it in. She wouldn't do this. Not her. He sat in the presence of a Doctor Stevens, a nurse and Monica, listening to how she'd been found. Monica had stopped by with John as she had weakly promised earlier in the week. They had waited for twenty minutes, ringing her cell and the house phone. Eventually, John had broken the door down, at Monica's insistence. They'd found her in the tub, her wrists cut to ribbons, but little blood. "She'd missed all major arteries, which is astounding. The blood loss came from superficial cuts along her arms, although there were others cuts on her body too, all self inflicted."

He had sat quietly, listening to everything that had been said, not wanting to talk over any of the information. Dr Stevens continued. "She woke up at the hospital and suffered some kind of anxiety attack. Has she ever suffered from any kind of nervous disorder, Mr Mulder?"

"Scully?" It would have been laughable in any other situation. "No, no way. She's not been herself lately; I don't know whether that has anything to do with it."

"Not herself how?"

"Erm…I don't know. I wouldn't call it depression exactly. She's been taking medication, hormone replacement therapy. Can't I see her?"

Dr Stevens exchanged glances with the nurse at his side. "She had to be heavily sedated on admittance. She wouldn't let anyone near enough to treat her."

"I need to see her," he persisted, getting up even though he had no clue where they were keeping her. Dr Stevens nodded, leading the way.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

This was not his Scully. She lay still, her breathing rapid and shallow. Her eyes were closed but the pain on her face was evident. He walked over, noticing the straps that kept her arms in place. He started to remove them viciously; outraged that anyone would restrain her in this way. "It's okay, you can remove those." He heard the male voice behind him. "We only put them on as a precaution. She's still heavily sedated." He sat on the edge of the bed, putting her cold hand in his. He heard the others leave. _Good_, he thought, better to be just him and her when she woke.

* * * * *

He didn't have long to wait. She stirred, reaching a hand up to shove the errant strands of hair from her face. She opened her eyes, scanning the ceiling before fixing her stare on Mulder. He tried to smile, gripping her hand tighter. She pulled it away quickly, putting both hands to her face. He didn't have to see her face to know the tears were coming; he only had to hear the retching sound and the sight of her shoulders in a violent shudder. Hysterical. She was crying hysterically now. He put his hands on her arms, bringing her up to him, holding her juddering body. He held her still, fighting his own emotions, desperate to know why she had done this to herself.

"Scully?" He managed to push her away, holding her in front of him. "Please tell me what happened."

"I'm so sorry, Mulder…" She began, dissolving into tears again. "I know what you think. I couldn't stop it. All I could think was what you would say."

"Why? Why did you do it?" he asked, desperately trying not to let his true feelings show; feelings of anger. Anger that he knew was wrong to feel, but he couldn't help it.

"At first, he just talked. I don't know what happened next. I didn't know what he was going to do, Mulder. He said I should go to sleep. When I woke up…"

"He?" Okay, now this conversation was taking a pretty big U-turn. His face had crept closer to hers, suddenly foreseeing where this story was going. He didn't want her to say anymore but she talked anyway, spilling the details like water.

"I woke up and he was inside me. I tried to tell him to stop but I couldn't. I couldn't move. I couldn't…" He stopped her, pulling her towards him again. Tears burned in his own eyes. He felt sick. The thought of someone coming to their home and hurting her like this enraged him. His grip on her had become rigid, he realised, as he pushed her in front of him again. Her face had turned to a ghastly white, only making the large red circles around her eyes more prominent.

"I don't think anything, Scully. Not about you. But you have to tell me, is that why you did this to yourself?" He moved his hands to her wrists, pulling her white-bandaged arms out in front of her. She looked down, as if noticing them for the first time. Pulling her hands from his, she held her arms out, turning them over in disbelief.

"What happened to me?" she asked, looking at him now in total disbelief.

"You don't remember?"

"No, I don't remember. Did he do this to me? I didn't know. I thought it was just like before. I thought he would just sit and talk."

"What do you mean, like before? Who did this?" He growled, not meaning to sound as hostile as he did, but he couldn't help it. She'd be furious if she could read his mind right now, and know how vulnerable he thought she truly was. "Who did this to you?"

"It was Carter," she moaned suddenly, clutching his shirt, wanting him as close as possible.

"Carter?" Now he didn't know what to think. "Scully, Carter has been with me all day long. There's no way Carter could have done this." She pulled away from him again, shaking her head profusely.

"It was, Mulder, he was at the house. He talked to me just like all the other days."

"It couldn't have been, Scully. There's no way. He never even left my side all day. It had to be someone else."

"No." She thumped his chest hard with her fists. She'd never hit him before and he held back a reaction, letting her vent her frustration onto him. He grabbed her arms and pulled her right up against him, limiting the room she had to swing at him. Moments later Stevens arrived, pushing her back down onto the bed, injecting her.

"What are you doing?" Mulder asked, indignant that they be separated. He needed more time to talk to her, to find out what had gone on.

"I'm sorry, sir, it's for her own safety as well as yours." He said. Soon she slept again; he felt grateful for that.

* * * * *

He watched Stevens' mouth move, but could hardly concentrate on the words. When they'd put Scully out again, he'd been left with a horrible story. He couldn't shake the scenario of Scully sound asleep in her bed, waking up to some bastard doing those things to her. It might also have been possible that he'd maimed her, his plans to kill her foiled by John and Monica. It could easily have been someone who resembled Carter. If he'd drugged her somehow it was easy to see how she would connect this stranger to the familiar person who had visited her at that place each day. While the whole scenario had made him physically sick, it was, in some twisted way, easier to stomach then the picture that Stevens was now painting.

They'd examined her again. The injuries were self inflicted, little doubt remained. They'd done a rape kit, at Mulder's request, finding very little evidence of sexual assault. Their coupling earlier that day had seemed to escape his mind until Stevens suggested that intercourse had taken place. For Mulder, a new nightmare began. Scully was still a victim, but of herself and not some masked stranger. She'd survived her own bungled suicide attempt, and somewhere along the way, her subconscious had concocted another story. A story that she truly believed. A sickening thought had crossed his mind. Should he have seen this coming? What if what they did that morning had contributed to the horror she was going through now? It was horror, for her. She believed in her own story without doubt and nothing would change her mind. He heard the tapping of heels as a shadow fell over him. Monica sank down next to him.

"John's at your house. They're looking for evidence and I'll clean up when they're done."

"You don't have to do that."

"I do," she said, the concern on her face reminding Mulder of the bloody scene in which they had found Scully. "What are they saying now? I heard what she said to you in there."

"It's not true."

"What?"

"None of what she is saying is true. She made those cuts herself and there's no sign of rape. I know why she thought that happened, and its all my fault. It's my fault." He put his hands to his face. "I hate seeing her like this. She's been changing right in front of me and I never even noticed. I should have seen this coming."

"Seen what coming?" she asked, tentatively putting a hand on his back.

"Dementia. At least that's what Stevens is saying. The risk is higher in women who have both ovaries removed but it isn't unheard of in women with one remaining ovary."

"I don't understand. I thought dementia was something seen in older women?"

"It is, usually. It doesn't make sense to me at the moment, but none of this does. They're saying not to worry too much, that it could be the medication and the shock. But what if it isn't? They don't know the other things that have happened. She claims that things have moved around in the house, when I know she's moved them. She claims to have seen things that I know can't be true. What if this is permanent?"

Monica suddenly felt defensive. She had never thought of Mulder as shallow before. Her feelings must have shown, for he rushed in with justification. "I don't mean that how it sounds. I guess I'm not used to seeing her this way, so out of control. Maybe I'm assuming that by thinking the worst I won't be shocked. That I'll handle the worst better."

"Do you think that works?"

"No." He muffled into his hands, tears streaming down his face now. She tried to put an arm round him, but he successfully evaded her, sitting upright.

"Look, I know it's none of my business…" She started gently.

"Of course it is, if you hadn't found her…"

"But we did find her," she reassured him. "But there are some things that don't make sense. When we went upstairs, the bathroom door was closed but not locked. I only went in because we heard the water running and there was no answer when I knocked. I'd have thought that if she meant to do this, that she would have locked it behind her. I also would have expected her to be accurate." She watched his face tighten in a grimace, the thought made her feel uneasy too. "I mean, she's a doctor. She'd know the best way to do this to ensure a painless death. We found her unconscious, but we don't even know why. It certainly wasn't from blood loss…"

He stood up, not wanting to think about it any more. She stood too, taking his arm, turning him to face her. "Most of all, I know she wouldn't do this to you. There's no way she would want you to find her like we did. John was mortified when he saw her." Images suddenly flashed through his mind, relaying the description of how they'd gone into the bathroom to find her naked body under the water, seeping slim streams of blood from the multiple cuts to her body.

"John hasn't seen her in months. Of course she changed after the operation." He retorted.

"I saw her only days ago and she wasn't like this!" She found herself nearly shouting. She backed off now, just reaching a hand out to his. He nodded at her, returning her affection. "When can she go home anyway?" Her tone brightened somewhat.

"Well, they aren't concerned about her physically. They say that they want psych to come and talk to her. If she doesn't seem to pose any danger to herself, they might let her go tomorrow as long as there's someone to watch her. I'll stay here tonight. I want to talk to her again as soon as she wakes up. I'll just go home to get her things, I guess."

"Why don't I go back to your place and fetch her things? Men never know what to get," she suggested, hoping that her ulterior motive hadn't seeped through. There were things she wanted to check herself, things she hadn't mentioned to Mulder. When they had found Scully, she had called out to Khai, finding her nowhere in sight. She had only emerged at Monica's insistence as John carried Scully, clad in a blanket, into the car. The girl had been careful to keep her door as closed as possible. There was something about her. Something that Mulder couldn't see. But she could see. She'd find out.

CHAPTER 14

By the time she'd arrived at the house, only John remained there. "Did they find anything?" She called to him, ascending the stairs. She found him sitting on the edge of the bed.

"After you called, I got them to strip the bed and take it to forensics. How's Mulder?"

"Not how you would think."

"I'd think he'd be at forensics' door ready to find the bastard that did this."

"He doesn't think anyone did this, John. He's convinced she did it herself. Problem is, the hospital is backing him up. They say the wounds are self inflicted and there aren't any obvious signs of rape."

"There wouldn't be if she's been lying in the tub." His voice was angry now. She understood. It seemed that they were the only two people who were ready to fight this, to fight her corner. It was as if he read her mind. "Why is he just accepting this? This is the man that once believed any mumbo jumbo anyone could throw at him. But in this case he can't see past one doctor's opinion, even if it means proving the woman he loves isn't losing her mind. It's crazy."

"He's just scared. He doesn't know what to think. I saw his reaction when she told him she'd been raped. Maybe that's something he can't deal with. Maybe this is easier." Deep down she felt for Mulder. His whole world seemed to be collapsing around his feet and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Monica." John interrupted her train of thought. "There's no way she did this. I know her."

"I know. We need to use this time to look around. To find evidence to the contrary." She got up and left, feeling confident that the answers lay in a different room.

* * * * *

He sat next to her, carefully examining her face through tired eyes. The truth was, Monica's words had made him weep. He should have seen these changes. Maybe he had, but he'd ignored them, hoping the problem would disappear. She slept well now, her breaths regular, her face the picture of peace. Her eyes opened, blinking a few times before fixating on him. "Mulder…" she groaned, before closing them again, reaching out for his hand. "When can I go home?" she asked.

"Soon, I hope. Someone is on the way down to talk to you. After that, it's up to them. I'm sorry I upset you so much earlier."

She looked confused for a moment before the memories of her outburst took up residence on her face. "I'm not crazy, Mulder, whatever you may think."

"I didn't say that."

"Okay, I'm not a liar, whatever you may think."

"I didn't say that, either."

"I must be one or the other," she said, looking away, fixing her gaze toward the window. Silence fell between them. He didn't know what to say. The only thing she wanted to hear was that he agreed. That he would ignore any evidence to the contrary. She wasn't interested in any other conclusion.

"Scully, they did a rape kit and they couldn't find anything conclusive. They're still running tests, but you need to prepare yourself for finding evidence of us – that's all."

"It happened, Mulder. I still feel pain from it; I have bruises."

"I think those bruises are from us."

"Us?"

"Earlier. That morning. You don't remember?"

She shook her head. She soon realised what he was thinking. "No, Mulder, I'm not confused. There's no way I would mix up what we did with what he did."

"Scully, you don't remember what we did. Look, I'd kill anybody who did those things to you." He was deadly serious, hoping that would be enough for her. That it would be enough to know that if it HAD happened he'd be there for her.

"Not anybody…Carter."

He sighed, not wanting to go through this again. Not yet, anyway. "I haven't rung your mother yet. I thought it'd be best to wait."

"I want to call her," she said, still staring out of the window.

"Okay…" He felt her hand go limp in his, as she distanced herself from him. "Why don't you ask her to come stay with us for a while?"

"I was thinking I might go stay with her."

"By yourself?"

"Yeah. I was thinking that might be a good idea."

"Why?"

"Mulder, the last place I want to be right now is back in that house."

"Then I'll come with you. I'll get Skinner to take Khai somewhere else and we'll both go."

"No, Mulder. It's fine, you don't have to come with me."

"Why not?" he asked, indignant now, confused as to why she suddenly wanted to hurt him this way. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" She raised her voice, folding her arms defensively in front of her.

"Doing this! Running away from me. What have I done, Scully? What have I done to make you want to punish me?"

"You don't believe me!" she cried. "It's worse than that, though. You won't even listen to me. I heard you talking to Khai the other night, Mulder. I know what you talk about."

"What we talk about?"

"I heard you, Mulder. I know you talk about William. I know you hate me for what I did. I know you feel trapped."

"Scully, I don't know what you're talking about – I've never spoken to Khai about William. Never."

"I heard you the other night. I stood at the top of the stairs and I heard your voices."

"You tell me when. When you heard this."

She stumbled; he could see the concentration on her face as she struggled to recall where this bizarre memory had come from. He watched her carefully, waiting for her to realise that she'd been mistaken. How she could ever think that he believed those things was a mystery to him. He moved now to sit on the bed, putting an arm around her, his other hand taking hers. Now she began to cry again. He pulled her against him, talking softly.

"You've been through so much these last few weeks, you aren't thinking straight. You can't remember those conversations because they never happened. I just want you to get better. I don't care about anything else."

She sniffed against his shirt, reaching a hand between them to wipe her eyes. "Why is someone coming to talk to me?"

He breathed out heavily, knowing that this was another loaded conversation. "They want to make sure you're okay to go home."

"I'm fine. They said that these cuts were superficial. If it's like you say, and I made it all up, then technically there's nothing wrong with me." She shot him a look now. "What? What is it?" she questioned him, watching his sad face.

"It's not the actual cuts they're worried about. It's how you got them."

Realisation dawned. "Mulder, I did NOT do this to myself." When he wouldn't meet her gaze, she reached forward, grabbing his arms. "You can't be serious!"

"I hope you didn't, Scully. If you say you didn't do it – then I believe you." He still wouldn't look at her. "I believe you." He didn't sound convinced enough for her liking.

Tuesday PM

Monica steered onto the drive, being careful not to hit the neat line of conifers that John had planted earlier that year. They were so tiny; she'd already trampled them twice. Once more and he might actually ban her from the driveway. She looked over at her pale passenger, hoping that this plan would work out. Mulder had been frantic on the phone.

"You need to get her to stay with you, Monica. If she goes to her family I won't be able to see her. I need to be able to see her." Of course she'd agreed at once, already feeling too involved now to back off. They'd found nothing in the bedroom, apart from the bloodied nail scissors. She HAD found something in Khai's room, though. She hadn't discussed it with Mulder yet, and she certainly wouldn't be talking to Dana about it. She needed to get her facts right first.

The car quietened as she put it into park. "Come on, Dana, I think we've lingered enough to miss out on John's attempt at ravioli, but we're not too late for take out."


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

By the time she'd arrived at the house, only John remained there. "Did they find anything?" She called to him, ascending the stairs. She found him sitting on the edge of the bed.

"After you called, I got them to strip the bed and take it to forensics. How's Mulder?"

"Not how you would think."

"I'd think he'd be at forensics' door ready to find the bastard that did this."

"He doesn't think anyone did this, John. He's convinced she did it herself. Problem is, the hospital is backing him up. They say the wounds are self inflicted and there aren't any obvious signs of rape."

"There wouldn't be if she's been lying in the tub." His voice was angry now. She understood. It seemed that they were the only two people who were ready to fight this, to fight her corner. It was as if he read her mind. "Why is he just accepting this? This is the man that once believed any mumbo jumbo anyone could throw at him. But in this case he can't see past one doctor's opinion, even if it means proving the woman he loves isn't losing her mind. It's crazy."

"He's just scared. He doesn't know what to think. I saw his reaction when she told him she'd been raped. Maybe that's something he can't deal with. Maybe this is easier." Deep down she felt for Mulder. His whole world seemed to be collapsing around his feet and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Monica." John interrupted her train of thought. "There's no way she did this. I know her."

"I know. We need to use this time to look around. To find evidence to the contrary." She got up and left, feeling confident that the answers lay in a different room.

* * * * *

He sat next to her, carefully examining her face through tired eyes. The truth was, Monica's words had made him weep. He should have seen these changes. Maybe he had, but he'd ignored them, hoping the problem would disappear. She slept well now, her breaths regular, her face the picture of peace. Her eyes opened, blinking a few times before fixating on him. "Mulder…" she groaned, before closing them again, reaching out for his hand. "When can I go home?" she asked.

"Soon, I hope. Someone is on the way down to talk to you. After that, it's up to them. I'm sorry I upset you so much earlier."

She looked confused for a moment before the memories of her outburst took up residence on her face. "I'm not crazy, Mulder, whatever you may think."

"I didn't say that."

"Okay, I'm not a liar, whatever you may think."

"I didn't say that, either."

"I must be one or the other," she said, looking away, fixing her gaze toward the window. Silence fell between them. He didn't know what to say. The only thing she wanted to hear was that he agreed. That he would ignore any evidence to the contrary. She wasn't interested in any other conclusion.

"Scully, they did a rape kit and they couldn't find anything conclusive. They're still running tests, but you need to prepare yourself for finding evidence of us – that's all."

"It happened, Mulder. I still feel pain from it; I have bruises."

"I think those bruises are from us."

"Us?"

"Earlier. That morning. You don't remember?"

She shook her head. She soon realised what he was thinking. "No, Mulder, I'm not confused. There's no way I would mix up what we did with what he did."

"Scully, you don't remember what we did. Look, I'd kill anybody who did those things to you." He was deadly serious, hoping that would be enough for her. That it would be enough to know that if it HAD happened he'd be there for her.

"Not anybody…Carter."

He sighed, not wanting to go through this again. Not yet, anyway. "I haven't rung your mother yet. I thought it'd be best to wait."

"I want to call her," she said, still staring out of the window.

"Okay…" He felt her hand go limp in his, as she distanced herself from him. "Why don't you ask her to come stay with us for a while?"

"I was thinking I might go stay with her."

"By yourself?"

"Yeah. I was thinking that might be a good idea."

"Why?"

"Mulder, the last place I want to be right now is back in that house."

"Then I'll come with you. I'll get Skinner to take Khai somewhere else and we'll both go."

"No, Mulder. It's fine, you don't have to come with me."

"Why not?" he asked, indignant now, confused as to why she suddenly wanted to hurt him this way. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" She raised her voice, folding her arms defensively in front of her.

"Doing this! Running away from me. What have I done, Scully? What have I done to make you want to punish me?"

"You don't believe me!" she cried. "It's worse than that, though. You won't even listen to me. I heard you talking to Khai the other night, Mulder. I know what you talk about."

"What we talk about?"

"I heard you, Mulder. I know you talk about William. I know you hate me for what I did. I know you feel trapped."

"Scully, I don't know what you're talking about – I've never spoken to Khai about William. Never."

"I heard you the other night. I stood at the top of the stairs and I heard your voices."

"You tell me when. When you heard this."

She stumbled; he could see the concentration on her face as she struggled to recall where this bizarre memory had come from. He watched her carefully, waiting for her to realise that she'd been mistaken. How she could ever think that he believed those things was a mystery to him. He moved now to sit on the bed, putting an arm around her, his other hand taking hers. Now she began to cry again. He pulled her against him, talking softly.

"You've been through so much these last few weeks, you aren't thinking straight. You can't remember those conversations because they never happened. I just want you to get better. I don't care about anything else."

She sniffed against his shirt, reaching a hand between them to wipe her eyes. "Why is someone coming to talk to me?"

He breathed out heavily, knowing that this was another loaded conversation. "They want to make sure you're okay to go home."

"I'm fine. They said that these cuts were superficial. If it's like you say, and I made it all up, then technically there's nothing wrong with me." She shot him a look now. "What? What is it?" she questioned him, watching his sad face.

"It's not the actual cuts they're worried about. It's how you got them."

Realisation dawned. "Mulder, I did NOT do this to myself." When he wouldn't meet her gaze, she reached forward, grabbing his arms. "You can't be serious!"

"I hope you didn't, Scully. If you say you didn't do it – then I believe you." He still wouldn't look at her. "I believe you." He didn't sound convinced enough for her liking.

Tuesday PM

Monica steered onto the drive, being careful not to hit the neat line of conifers that John had planted earlier that year. They were so tiny; she'd already trampled them twice. Once more and he might actually ban her from the driveway. She looked over at her pale passenger, hoping that this plan would work out. Mulder had been frantic on the phone.

"You need to get her to stay with you, Monica. If she goes to her family I won't be able to see her. I need to be able to see her." Of course she'd agreed at once, already feeling too involved now to back off. They'd found nothing in the bedroom, apart from the bloodied nail scissors. She HAD found something in Khai's room, though. She hadn't discussed it with Mulder yet, and she certainly wouldn't be talking to Dana about it. She needed to get her facts right first.

The car quietened as she put it into park. "Come on, Dana, I think we've lingered enough to miss out on John's attempt at ravioli, but we're not too late for take out."


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

It had been awkward seeing John again, knowing that the last time he'd seen her she'd be naked in the bathtub. He had been sitting on the sofa when they arrived, engrossed in the basketball. She'd felt a twinge of guilt then, thinking of Mulder at home, most likely watching the Same game by himself. She'd picked at her food, asking them both if it was okay to just go and lie down. In truth, she'd rather be here then at her mother's. Her mother would ask too many questions and would want to know why she hadn't brought Mulder with her.

She lay back, going over and over the last few days in her head, trying to place these memories that seemed so real to her, even now. A soft knocking broke her concentration. "It's open," she called, expecting Monica. Instead, John appeared, holding the familiar white paper bag.

"Sorry, we forgot to give you these at dinner." She sat up, making room for him to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. She blew out a deep breath.

"I don't need these, John, I'm not crazy."

"No, I don't think these are the crazy ones. These are the ones to help you sleep."

"Funny, I've done nothing but sleep for the last two weeks."

They sat for a minute, both unsure about who should speak next. "I didn't do this, John." She motioned to her arms. "For God's sake, I'm a doctor; if I was going to do this I'd have done it right."

"That's what Monica said. . ." He faded out. "Sorry."

"Said to who? Mulder?" She rolled her eyes.

"He wants you to get well. I may not agree with his rigidity on this, but even I can see he's out of his mind with worry."

"I know he is. I just can't be around him right now. I need to sort this out on my own, without someone telling me what to think."

"You think that's what he's doing?"

"No," she admitted freely. "But he's so sure of himself with this, he wont be happy until I agree with him. This is all happening at a bad time."

"Is there ever a good time for this to happen?" She could sense his smile in his voice, and felt lifted by it.

* * * * *

Mulder flicked through channel after channel, finding nothing of interest. The house was cold and silent. Skinner had rung once, to enquire about Scully, but also, Mulder felt, with an ulterior motive to get Khai back to the house. He knew how dangerous it could be to move a witness around; you never knew who worked for whom and who could be listening. It only took one person to misspeak and the whole operation could be blown. The less people who knew about this, the better.

Upon his return, there seemed no sign of any of the events the previous day, only Scully's absence. He ran through the happenings of the past few days, trying to make sense of what was happening. She'd been unhappy before the operation, which he'd put down to her forgetting William's birthday. He knew that she already harboured feelings of guilt and, at times, self-loathing over giving up their son. It was possible that these feelings, coupled with having her ovary taken, had sparked some kind of breakdown. Physically, she'd been so ill he should have known that her sudden hype that morning was down to some kind of mental illness, and yet he'd gone ahead and made love to her, putting his own selfish needs before hers. Now it had come back on them full force. The visits from Carter, the case file and their actions that morning had fused in her mind as some kind of traumatic event. He hated himself. He'd let her down. He hoped he could put it right.

* * * * *

Three days later

Friday PM

She looked much better today. She hadn't noticed any difference after her first night in this strange new bed, but three nights of good sleep and decent meals had transformed her. She couldn't delude herself – she still looked slightly pale, but those horrid dark circles had disappeared from her eyes, and her body felt stronger then it had in weeks. She owed so much to Monica and John, but she knew she couldn't stay forever. Eventually she would have to go home to Mulder. It wasn't really a case of 'having' to, as it was 'wanting' to. She'd missed him these three days but still felt a glint of anger, refusing the phone calls he'd made to the house, getting Monica to lie for her. Last night, however, she had taken his call and agreed that they meet tonight and talk. He must have known that her leaving was not a permanent solution, more like a way of clearing her head and giving herself some space. She felt betrayed that he should believe the facts over her own judgement, even though she'd asked him to disregard his own judgement over the facts many times throughout the years.

Now she considered her appearance carefully. Monica had manipulated her hair into loose curls. Her make up remained simplistic, but applied much less sparingly then usual. The normal swipe of mascara had been traded for several coats of the deep black liquid and the usual pencil of eyeliner lay thicker tonight, threatening to smudge. None of the clothes that Monica had packed for her would have been suitable for tonight. Not that Mulder would have cared if she'd turned up in sweat pants and an old T-shirt, but she needed to convince him that she was well. That she wasn't some victim. Monica had lent her a white, sleeveless, button shirt and a black skirt that fell just above her knees. Who knew where it fell on someone as tall as Monica.

At that moment, Monica appeared at the door. "Mulder's here. You ready?"

"Jesus, it's like I'm going on a date with my husband," she said, picking up her coat.

"Well, you kind of are." She laughed.

As they reached the front door, she felt a twinge of anxiety. What if he was mad at her for not coming home? What if they ended up arguing again? What if he still believed she was crazy? Well, he didn't say crazy. He'd used the phrase 'not yourself' but she knew what he'd meant. She'd had three days to mull over the events of that one night. She found it hard to admit, but he was right about some things. She couldn't remember when she had heard the conversations between Khai and him, not the ones involving William, anyway. It had stung her when he'd suggested that she'd dreamt the incident with Carter, but the more she thought it through, the more she realised she had no proof. An oddity about the whole situation was how, as time had gone on, instead of remembering more about the events, she remembered much less, like it was some fading dream that had been remembered in the instant of waking but now eluded her. Two things she remembered clearly though. One, that Khai and Mulder had been on the couch together that night, and two, that she did not harm herself.

She closed the door behind her, heading out into the dark toward the car sitting at the end of the driveway. Inside it, she made out Mulder's silhouette, messing with something in the pocket of his door. She pulled the door open, startling him.

"Hey, I was about to come get you," he said, turning to twist the keys in the ignition. It was only after he did this that he turned to look at her. "Wow, you look so different. You look. . .great." He struggled to hide the incredulity in his voice. He realised how it sounded and felt the need to clarify. "I'm sorry, it's just that the last time I saw you. . ."

"It's okay." She became shy suddenly, looking at her hands. "Look, Mulder, about what happened. . ."

"No." He cut her off sharply. "We don't have to talk about that. Not yet, anyway. Let's just go out to dinner and catch up. Okay?" It was more a statement than a question, a desperate statement to avoid the scenario of her staying away another night. Work commitments meant that they'd spent their fair share of nights apart over the last few years, he knew that. But he'd take a week apart that was forced over her choosing absence even for one night.

* * * * *

If he'd feared for their conversation over dinner, he needn't have. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence in the car, he'd shared with her what he'd learned over the past few days. He'd been with Skinner, interviewing the surviving member of the trafficking gang, Harrison. He denied any knowledge of Jenson's whereabouts.

"How did they all die?" she asked, inquisitive.

"You can come see the bodies tomorrow if you want." He realised he was being presumptuous and continued with the facts. "Harrison says that he left the compound for a few days to visit a supplier. When he returned, the men were dead and Jenson missing."

"What about the women?"

"He said he couldn't see the women. But they would be locked in the back anyway. The men died of various conditions. Some killed themselves, others died from injuries sustained from serious conflict. Jenson assumed they'd been ambushed and fled. The girls were found with similar injuries. There was another surviving girl other than Khai, and she seems a little more forthcoming. We're going to talk to her in a couple of days, when she's well enough."

"She was injured?"

"Yeah, I don't have all the details, but the hospital are pretty stubborn about us talking to her."

Their conversation came to a momentary halt as the waiter poured wine into the glasses. "Scully, I'm sorry, I forgot about your medication, I shouldn't have asked for alcohol." She simply looked at him, raising her glass and waiting for him to understand. "Scully, what are you doing? Won't that make you sick?"

"I haven't been taking any medication, Mulder." She saw his face change, ready for him to chastise her. "I know more about that stuff than you do, Mulder. I've seen how it affects people. If I'd taken that stuff I wouldn't be sitting here now; I'd be drooling into a plastic cup."

"That's an exaggeration," he told her, accepting her challenge.

"Maybe," she admonished. "But I don't need that stuff, Mulder, I'm fine now. I know what's real and what isn't. You have to trust me on this."

"I do trust you, I do. . . it's just. . . "

"It's just that you think you're going to come home and find me in the tub again, right?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to." She got up, taking her coat with her.

He chased her out into the night, grabbing her arm as she walked, turning her to him.

"You can quit worrying about me, Mulder, I can look after myself."

"After what happened? How can you say that? All these things you think you've seen. . ."

"I know what I've seen!" She found herself yelling and had to check herself, watching as people entering the restaurant stared at her. "I tried to tell you in the car. I know most of those things were in my head, Mulder; Carter being in our room, the conversations between you and Khai. I know they weren't real. I can't explain it right now; I still feel weird about it, like they were a dream that I remember less and less everyday. I know that most of these things are in my head."

"Most things?" he asked.

"For one thing, I know I saw Khai with you on the sofa that night. That's how I know it wasn't a dream like the other things. It's a real memory . . . I can feel it."

"What's the other thing?"

"That I didn't put myself in that tub. I know, Mulder…I know."

"How do you know?" His eyes had become glassy, his words thick with emotion.

"Because I would never do that to you! What possible reason could I have for leaving you? I love you!" She put her hand to her face, letting her emotions overrun her. She felt him round her, pulling her against him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, guilt overwhelming him. "I'm so sorry I didn't believe you. I was so afraid. I don't know why I didn't believe you." Inside he did, though. Part of him hadn't found it difficult to believe she'd wanted to end it. Not really. She'd seemed so fragile lately; forgetting William's birthday seemed to have made her worse. His own selfish side worried that he wasn't enough for her. That he wasn't enough to keep her happy. When she pulled away, he briefly wondered if she had read his mind.

"I know why you didn't believe me. It's because of all the other crazy stuff that I said happened. How were you supposed to pick the truth from the lies?"

"I wouldn't call them lies, Scully, you believed them." She seemed unable to catch his eye. "Look, I'll go back in and pay, and we can go home." He went inside, leaving her out in the light rain, wondering what would happen next. She supposed she'd gotten everything she wanted now. He understood her. He believed her. He loved her. The events of the last few days still weighed on her shoulders. She still had no explanation for the lacerations to her arms and she hated that. She knew she wouldn't be happy until she could explain it – and neither would Mulder. Her train of thought jolted to a halt at the sight of Mulder coming through the beige glass doors. Her lips curled in a small smile, realising how happy she was to be coming home to him. She watched him make his way across the car park, his own face brightening upon seeing the smile on hers.

* * * * *

The day seemed to be finishing a thousand times better then it had started. That morning he'd woken on the sofa, still in his jeans, alone and frustrated. Now he was in his bed, out of his jeans and definitely not alone.

When he'd suggested taking her home, he had feared she might resist, even just for the sake of it. She didn't. He'd driven in relative silence, not wanting the next words out of his mouth to drive her away again. Instead, he put on the radio, letting Ryen Russillo fill the silence with talk of baseball. Once they were home, he half expected her to feel the unease that he did. Would she expect him to drive her back to John's in an hour or so? When she simply shrugged off her coat and asked if he were coming to bed, he found his question answered.

Time had no measure now. He couldn't tell how long they'd been lying there together, face to face, and he didn't care either. He closed his eyes at the feel of her hand wrapped around him, desperately kissing her in an attempt to busy himself and distract his mind from the pangs of pleasure she made him feel. Lying on his side restricted him too much. He lifted himself up, placing an arm either side of her face, still screwing his eyes shut tightly as her grasp on him tightened with each upstroke. He felt happy to simply hover over her, to hold his body on top of her, taking care not to rest his full weight against her tiny frame. Her legs wrapping around his hips told him that she had other ideas and he found himself fighting against her, resisting as she pulled him towards her entrance. His eyes raked over her body, questioning for the millionth time why she'd chosen this life with him. His attempts at distraction seemed inferior as she continued to edge herself closer to the head of his throbbing penis, his ego mounting each time she coaxed him towards her.

At first he played it as a game, but he knew that soon she might misunderstand his motives and feel rejected. He'd hate for that to happen. He pushed into her slowly, watching her face carefully, not wanting her to feel pressured into any of this. "Oh God," he gasped, bracing himself above her. "Oh God, Scully, you're so good." That earned him a smile. "What?" He sounded more serious than he felt, the moment weighing on him as he fought hard against his own release. It felt ridiculous, but the emotions that had stirred inside him these last few weeks had made her more invaluable to him then ever.

"Nothing, really; maybe the fact that you're giving me so much credit for just lying here underneath you."

He grinned, screwing his eyes shut again, feeling her inner muscles squeezing him, teasing him just that little bit more then she really should. "Scully, don't do that," he gasped.

"Why? I thought you liked it." Her best impression of naivety was not lost on him, but not convincing him either.

"I DO like it, but if you keep doing that it's going to be over pretty soon." With that he withdrew, her disappointment evident as she reached forward to grab his hips.

"What are you doing?" Her voice sounding more like a whine then a question. He put his lips to hers briefly, waiting until she relaxed into him, no longer questioning his motives. His lips moved lower, under her jaw line and down into the valley between her breasts. No longer protesting, she let her head fall back and put her hands in his hair, encouraging his ministrations. He strayed from his route, moving his mouth over the flesh of her breast, left full and plump from her pregnancy. His gentle teasing was soon rewarded with the helpless whimpering he knew she could not fake. Slowly he continued down towards her pubic bone, taking care to draw the process out, making her wait that little bit longer. He saw her eyes close, her senses ready for his next move. He hovered above his goal, watching the concentration on her face as she continued to predict his next manoeuvre.

Her body jumped off the bed, her hips bucking as his tongue flattened against the tiny bundle of nerves that lay hidden in her folds. His hands went to her hips, holding them down onto the mattress, giving her less freedom to dissipate the pleasure, hoping this way she would come harder then she had ever before. Soon she was bunching the sheets in her hands, crying his name over and over again as he slowed everything down, knowing from experience that once her climax hit she would become oversensitive and pained from his attention there. He watched as the tension left her muscles and the concentration disappeared from her face.

He climbed back up to put his face against hers, putting open mouth kisses against her neck as he slid back into her, this time the feeling even better than before as her centre still throbbed from the peak she had experienced only minutes ago. As he filled her she instinctively raised her knees, wrapping her legs around his waist as if securing him in place. He pumped into her at a steady speed, his kisses becoming erratic and misaimed. Putting her hands on his chest she pushed him away, only enough so that his eyes would meet hers. He looked searchingly at her, hoping she suddenly regretted them coming back together so soon. She quickly alleviated his fears.

"We need to get through this, Mulder; we will get through this," she said. He nodded quickly, wanting her to know that he felt the same, that there wasn't some quick fix. He looked at her again, unsure of where he stood now. Again she seemed to rescue his soul. "I love you, Mulder."

"Oh God, Scully." He began to move again, this time with abandon. Technique was soon replaced with speed as he drove into her faster and faster. "Oh God, Scully, oh God, oh God . . . Scully, I love you . . ." He poured into her, allowing himself to momentarily collapse onto her body afterward. Her arms wrapped around his searing back, holding him against her while his breathing came in rapid, shallow pants. They could talk tomorrow, she decided.

************************************


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Her eyes fluttered open as the mattress bowed beside her. She instinctively put an arm out to stop the body next to her getting out of the bed. "Where are you going?" She yawned ungracefully.

"Don't you mean, where have I been?" he asked, wrapping himself under the covers and moulding his body against hers. Her body felt incredibly warm against his, so much so that he almost felt guilty putting his cold hands and feet against her skin. Almost. As his hands grabbed her waist, she yelped, jumping up to avoid his embrace. "Don't fight it, Scully; the sooner you accept it, the sooner you can acclimatise."

"I don't want to acclimatise," she protested, positioning herself so that the bulk of her body lay curled against his chest. "What are you doing today?"

"Well." He moved his body away so that he could see her face. "Skinner asked me to go with him to interview the surviving member of Jenson's gang." He caught her questioning look. "I know, he came forward with new information. If he testifies then he'll get a lesser sentence. Why don't you come with us?"

She turned onto her back, considering the changes that had taken place over the last few days. She still feared what people thought about her situation. She had found it difficult to face John knowing that he had been the one to carry her naked body from the tub. Skinner also knew what she had been through, and maybe others, too. He had read her face correctly and quickly dismissed her worries.

"It'll just be me, you and Skinner. He wants to drop Khai back off here, actually, although I don't know whether it would be a good idea given the circumstances."

"Where else would she go, Mulder? I mean, isn't it dangerous to move a protected witness so close to the trial?"

"That's what he's saying. But I know that he understands we're doing him the favour. He knows now maybe isn't the best time . . ."

"It's fine, Mulder, you can tell him when we see him later. It isn't fair on Khai to cause anymore upset. She didn't ask for any of this."

* * * * *

Jenson's sidekick looked every bit the rat he was, right room his greasy, greying hair to the dirty fingernails that tapped nervously on the cold hard table. "If Jenson finds out, he'll kill me."

"He's going to find out either way, Paul. The difference is that if you help us out we can put him away for a long time. Longer than the time you'll get." Mulder pulled his chair closer to the table, watching Paul Harrison's face carefully, waiting for him to crack completely. They needed his testimony badly. Without it, there was no proof that Jenson was involved at all. "Hey, if you don't want to testify, that's fine." Mulder backed off a little, holding his hands up. "But as it stands, you're the only surviving member that can be placed at the crime scene. You could be going down for murder as well as sex trafficking."

With that he began to talk.

Scully listened as Harrison began to tell them of Jenson's trips to Thailand. He would return by boat, often smuggling girls in suitcases. Although the idea was abhorrent to her, Scully understood that it could be done. The girls were threatened with violence against their families if they did not co-operate and, once they had entered the States, they had would have been too frightened to run away, except one girl, who they had yet to talk to. Harrison went on to tell them of the handful of places that Jenson might be and pleaded with them for protection.

As Harrison was led away, Mulder got up from his seat, walking over to where Scully and Skinner stood. "Any new leads on Jenson's whereabouts?" he asked. Skinner shook his head.

"Not as of yet. Obviously, we'll be following the leads that Harrison has given us."

"Any chance I can look at the bodies found in the warehouse?" Scully interrupted. Mulder gave her a concerned look but kept his feelings to himself. He couldn't very well ask her to accompany him on the case but disallow her to help in the way she could best.

"As far as I know, there has already been an initial pathology report." Skinner answered, feeling a little uncomfortable as her stare bore into him. A stare that told him she wanted to prove herself. "But I don't see why we can't have our own investigation. Are you okay to drive out there? Mulder, I want you to come with me to see the girl that called the police. Apparently she's ready to talk."

* * * * *

The girl lay still, her face bruised beyond recognition. They had expected to get to the hospital and meet with an interpreter before questioning the girl at length. Just outside the room, Skinner quizzed one of the doctors.

"We were told this morning that we would be able to speak to Miss Gaila. I can see now that it isn't a possibility." Mulder listened to the doctor explain of her unexpected downturn that morning. She was currently heavily sedated, but they could come back tomorrow if they so wished. As he half listened, he considered the torture she must have endured while under Jenson's establishment. Her arms were bound tightly with white bandages and her right eye had been swollen shut. This was someone's daughter, he thought, maybe even a wife. He became dislodged from his thoughts as Skinner took hold of his arm.

"Come on," he said, "we'll have to come back tomorrow."

* * * * *

He realised how messy he'd allowed the house to become in her absence. Odd things that he would usually put away, he had left strewn about the place. He made his way upstairs, looking with satisfaction at the heap of sheets that lay tangled on their bed. His arrogance was a flaw that he had learned to curb most of the time but in some instances he failed to stem the flow of self-satisfaction that fed his ego to gigantic proportions. He went about tidying up, picking up their clothes from last night that had been strewn across the floor. He was sure that if it weren't for her late awakening, Scully would have taken care of this that morning. It hadn't surprised him how readily her domesticity had come to the fore once they had purchased their own home, even if she quickly denied the fact when he teased her about it.

"Playing house, Mulder?" He spun toward the sound of her voice.

"I thought I should, seeing as though you're obviously neglecting some of your wifely duties." He reached down into her pile of clothes, retrieving a black silky garment. "Some of them, anyway." He grinned, overcompensating for the eye rolling he received from her. He saw a shot of embarrassment in her face, his laughter dying quickly into a simple smile, hoping to lighten the moment. He hadn't been so naïve as to think that one intense night would close the distance that had been created between them. He still felt he had to prove his trust to her, which would be easier if he knew exactly what had happened. He pushed the thought away, knowing that if he ever voiced the concern, she would be back through the door.

They ate dinner in relative quiet, talking sparsely about the case. Scully's autopsy results had found a common substance in most of the bodies recovered from the scene. She told him that once the lab had analysed it, she hoped to make the connection between those that had had been exposed to the substance and those that hadn't. His heart felt heavy at the quiet atmosphere that had developed between them. Selfishly, he had hoped that after last night, the problems might float away and that they could continue the loving relationship that they had enjoyed before this all began. He knew better, however. He knew that last night was her way of telling him that eventually things would be okay again, and that she loved him and still wanted him. He also knew that she would want time to process being back home, finding trust in his judgement again – and her own.

Once dinner was over she moved to clear away the dishes, avoiding his attempts at dissuading her from the chore.

"Look, Scully, I just want you to tell me." He took her elbow as she placed the rest of the dishes in the sink. "Do you regret what happened last night? You've been pretty quiet all day. If you need more time . . ."

"I don't need more time, Mulder." She looked up at him then, seeing the confusion in his face. "I just keep trying to process everything. I still don't know exactly what happened upstairs . . ." She trailed off.

"What else?" he asked.

"I know at some point I have to go back to work. What will they think?"

"They'll think what they know, Scully. They'll think what our report tells them – that someone broke into our house and attacked you. I already straightened it out with Skinner. They have to believe it."

"But you don't believe it," she said. His mouth hung open. She immediately wanted to take it back. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I want us to move on from this, I really do. I just need . . ."

"Reassurance." He finished for her. "Reassurance that I believe you. That I believe in you. I do, Scully. I've spent the last fifteen years believing in no-one else." He waited for her to understand. The sad smile on her face told him that she did.

* * * * *

He woke to the sound of knocking at the window. He waited quietly, thinking maybe he dreamed it. When it came again he cursed silently, realising it had to be Skinner bringing Khai back to them. He pulled on his jeans from yesterday and a sweater, leaving Scully sound asleep. When he opened the door, he was greeted by Khai's shy smile and Skinner's dubious glare.

"Sorry I took so long – I was . . .cleaning," Mulder said, taking Khai's duffel bag from Skinner.

Khai sat on the sofa, watching Mulder roaming the kitchen. "Mrs Mulder, she is better now?" she asked. Mulder took a seat in the armchair, careful not to sit right next to her. He still felt wary about Scully's accusations that there was something going on between Khai and himself. The very notion of feeding that paranoia left him seasick.

"Yeah, she is, Khai. I'm glad you're back. I actually wanted to talk to you about the case." He watched her shift uncomfortably. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but eventually you might have to." She eyed him carefully, opening her mouth to speak, before his attention was quickly diverted to the woman descending the stairs in her silk robe.

It wasn't until she reached the bottom of the stairs that she spotted Khai sitting on the sofa, watching her. Suddenly, her messy hair and smudged make up made her feel vulnerable. She shoved the thought away, knowing how hard Mulder would laugh if she ever voiced her feelings.

"Khai, hi. Sorry, I didn't realise you'd be here so early." With that she drifted into the kitchen. Mulder followed.

"Scully, are you okay staying with Khai for today? I'm going back to the hospital to interview the girl; they say her condition has improved enough for us to talk to her." She nodded quickly.

"It's fine, Mulder. I was going to tidy up around here anyway. You're no Martha Stewart, that's for sure."

* * * * *

"It was awful. I hated being there even more then I hated being on that boat." She touched her face again, wincing as her fingers made contact with the bruises. "They would take some girls away and they would come back days later. Some of the girls went missing and never came back. Lots of the girls got sick. They would bleed and bleed when they came back from . . .those men."

"What happened the night you escaped?" Mulder pressed her.

"Lots of the girls were sick. I always thought it was from when the men . . ." Mulder nodded, not needing to know those details. "But the men got sick too."

"How so?" he asked.

"They didn't bleed. They got . . ." She faded out. "They got mad. Angry. Some of them used to argue and fight each other. That's how I got out."

Mulder nodded, realising how tired she looked. "You've been a big help, Gaila, thank you. I have to say you speak very good English. "

"We all did. We weren't allowed to speak our own language anyway; the men would yell at us. There was only one girl who couldn't speak good English. I don't know where she came from. She didn't arrive with us."

"Oh yeah?" He was interested now. He knew she must have been talking about Khai.

"Her name was Khai. She never got sick. We were afraid of her. She was different. I don't know what happened to her though – last time I saw her was with Jenson."


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

"Mrs Mulder, I bring you some water." Khai set the glass of clear liquid down on the dresser, watching as Scully set the bed straight. She hadn't spoken much since she had seen Scully come down in her robe, out of embarrassment, Scully guessed. Khai had never particularly warmed to her, or maybe it was the other way round. Scully didn't have many close female friends, a fact she had always blamed on her job, which seemed to breed women similar to herself; independent, strong and careful to appear equals to their male counterparts.

"Thanks, Khai. I can fix us something to eat in a minute – just let me finish upstairs." Khai shook her head,

"No, no, I will cook." With that she disappeared.

* * * * *

Mulder jumped behind the wheel, flipping his cell phone up as he started the engine. "Skinner, it's Mulder. I think I may have a lead on where to find Jenson."

"We found him, Mulder." He waited for Skinner's next words, but they didn't come.

"What? What is it?"

"He's dead, Mulder. We found him not far from where the girls were kept."

"How did he die?"

"We don't know yet. I was hoping Scully could take a look at the body but I can't reach her. I don't know why, but it looks like . . ." He trailed off then.

"What?"

"It looks like he mutilated himself to death. Of course, that will have to be verified. There are scratches and cuts to his face and arms. We think he may have bled to death."

Mulder gulped back the bile rising to his throat, his face becoming flushed with heat. His mind flashed back to Scully in the hospital, the scratches over her arms and legs. "Scully's not answering the phone?"

"No, not the house or her cell."

* * * * *

She stood on shaky legs, the room spinning and the floor thundering up and down. "Khai! Khai, are you there?" she called, making her way out to the top of the stairs. Common sense told her not to venture down alone – but with no sign of Khai, she would have to. Unsteady legs gave way and she quickly grabbed the rail. She took each step one at a time, eventually having to sit down and lower herself to the bottom. A shrill sound could be heard in the distance but as she reached the bottom of the stairs, it stopped.

She stood, her eyes searching desperately for some form of help. She called for Khai again, her voice interrupted by the sound of her cell. She followed the sound through the living room. Familiar sounds of boiling pots and gushing water came from the kitchen as she spied Khai working in there. She was about to call again, to shout at her and tell her she needed help, when she realised where the ringing had originated. She slowly made her way through the living room and down the small hallway that held only a small bathroom and Khai's room. She followed the ringing; unaware that beyond the small wooden door would be the answer to many questions posed over the last few days.

* * * * *

"Oh God, Scully, please answer." He breathed down the phone, holding out until it cut to answer phone and then redialling. As he went to redial again, the phone rang out.

"Mr Mulder? This is Scott Western: I'm trying to reach Dana Scully."

"Yeah, she isn't answering her phone."

"This is about the lab results she left with us yesterday, the Jenson case. She wanted them to be a priority."

"What did you find?" he asked, the urgency in his voice only present because he wanted him off the line.

"Well, from all of the bodies we tested, over half of them had the foreign substance in them. We found all women to be suffering from pituitary micro adenoma, which would explain the self-mutilation and reported hysteria. We found the substance in some of the men also. I can't say where it originated from though – most likely not this country. I also called to offer my apologies to Dana."

"Apologies?"

"Yeah. I don't know if she told you: she left us a sample of her blood to test. She said she'd been sick and she wanted some blood work done but not to involve the hospital. I can understand that since she works in a hospital."

"Why would you need to apologise?" Now he was getting irritable. All he wanted to do was call Scully and tell her to lock herself away.

"Well, one of my interns screwed up. They were meant to infect her blood with a substance to test for abnormal hormone levels. When I came to check her sample, it tested positive for the foreign substance. I discarded it after that as I still don't know enough about the substance to rule out its ability to alter the hormonal levels in Dana's blood."

"Hang on, so you're saying that the substance showing up in the bodies at the warehouse is also present in her blood?"

"Yeah. Like I said, I'm sorry. I'll call her again tomorrow."

Too late. Mulder had already flipped the lid on his cell and began calling Skinner. At first he hoped he was overreacting. Now he was resided to the unhappy fact that he could be right.

* * * * *

She reached for the cell phone, dialling Mulder's number. As she did, she looked around. Khai's dresser was filled with small objects from around the house. Not any objects though – personal ones. The watch she had bought Mulder a few years ago for their anniversary; a Super Bowl DVD he usually kept handy around the DVD player; a small, shiny trinket. She leaned over, picking it up in her hand. His mother's earring glistened, winking up at her like an old friend saying hello. She had been right after all. She knew she'd found her black camisole in here and yet she'd dismissed it as an accident. When Mulder's phone cut to answer phone, she quickly redialled.

"Monica, it's me. You have to help me. I'm sick again. It's Khai. It's all been Khai. I'm in her room and there are Mulder's things every-" A sharp thud preceded the dark.

* * * * *

"Scully?" Monica pushed her way into the house with a hard shove to the front door. The house was silent save for a rustling sound coming from the kitchen. She walked in just in time to take the pot off the stove and prevent a cascade of foam over spilling from under its top. She called again, getting no answer. She thought back to where the original call had come from – Khai's room. She walked through the living room, soon finding the alcove of bits and pieces that on their own would contribute nothing significant. Together, however, they told a different story.

She stood up and turned on her heel, determined to find Scully before Khai completed what she had started a week ago. She quietly drew her gun, staying close to the wall as she ascended the stairs. Getting to the top of the landing, she peered around the corner, catching sight of a limp female body lying on the floor. As she moved quickly, nothing prepared her for the figure that stepped out in front of her. The tiny person with incredible strength, enough strength to push her backward, was sending her hurtling down the stairs.

"Scully!" He shot through the front door, sweat pouring from his face, his stomach churning over and over as he spotted the body at the foot of the stairs. He turned Monica over, thankful when she stirred, reaching a hand to her head.

"What happened?" he asked. She murmured something softly, enough for him to realise she would be okay and then began his ascent of the stairs.

* * * * *

He rounded the corner into the bedroom, his eyes desperately seeking her out. "Scully?" He called for what felt like the millionth time. A limp sight covered in a cotton robe, slumped against the wall, caught his eye. He started towards her, only to be forcefully intercepted.

"Mulder? What are you doing here?" Khai put her hands on his arms, attempting to guide him backwards. He let her for a moment, staring into her eyes and feeling transfixed.

"What happened to Scully?" His voice came out strangled and weak.

She gave him a confused look, as if expecting to hear different words from his mouth. "I…" She didn't have time to finish as he pushed her to one side, going over to where Scully lay with her back against the wall, her eyes closed and her mouth letting out shallow breaths.

"What did you do to her?" he asked, his voice low as he spotted drops of blood seeping through the cotton. He turned quickly. "I said, what did you do to her!" His voice roared, making Khai physically jump back. He turned back to Scully and opened her robe, finding nothing to substantiate the spots of blood. He rolled up her sleeves to find those tiny cuts reopened and blood spreading up her arms. "Monica!" he shouted, "Monica, if you can hear me, get up here!"

Khai ventured forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. He slid from underneath her touch, taking his cell from his pocket. "Skinner, it's me…"

* * * * *

As the darkness cleared, he cursed himself for not calling Skinner when he found Monica or sooner. He'd hardly had chance to speak when the heavy thump had been delivered to the back of his head. He looked around, his vision shaky. Scully had gone, the sound of running water overriding his cries for her. He called for Khai instead. At once the water stopped and she came running out.

"What is it?"

"Khai, I need to know why you're doing this."

She knelt at his side. "Because of you."

"Me?" He felt sick at the thought of being the catalyst for any of this.

"You are a kind man. Better man than those others. Better than my husband, my father. I know how you feel." She put a hand on his face, disappointment flashing across her features as he shrugged her touch away. He realised then what it was all about. He also knew that if he didn't do something soon, Scully's chance of getting out alive would be gone.

* * * * *

She forced her brain to recount the events of the last hour or so. Discovering Mulder's possessions in Khai's room had left her dubious for just a second. An outsider might have jumped to the conclusion that she and Mulder had been enjoying some kind of illicit affair. However, for all Mulder's shortcomings, he'd never betray her like that. Common sense had reassured her that this was a strictly one-way thing. When she'd half woken, she'd been laid out on the floor, her wrists open and bleeding again. Khai had said nothing and had simply gone about the whole thing in a methodical manner. She'd made more slits to Scully's arms and poured more water into her mouth, unfazed by Scully's attempts to fight her off. Now she was aware that she'd been dragged into the bathroom, Mulder's voice a comfort as she drifted into consciousness. As she began to feel better, she leaned herself over, half crawling, half dragging herself back into the bedroom. What she saw made her sick.

* * * * *

Khai leaned away from him, looking disappointed again. When she'd brushed her lips against his, he'd tried to turn away, her hand halting him. He'd closed his lips against her, hating her for what she'd done to the woman he loved. The woman he'd die for. She had bound his hands behind his back. Suddenly, there seemed only one way out of this situation. He had to gain her trust – make her think that he understood.

"I could give you so much," she said, her hands coming up to mess in his hair. "I could give you what you want. Nice house, love…children."

He looked over her shoulder, his eyes meeting Scully's. God, he hoped she hadn't seen what had just happened. He needed to tell her why he would be doing this. Why this next step would be so important.

"Okay." He gulped down. She regarded him closely, unsure of why he had the sudden change of heart. He looked at Scully, who was now sitting upright but unable to stand.

"I said okay. I want those things. I want someone who can give me those things. I've been unhappy these last few years. I'm so sorry, Scully." He stated the words plainly, feeling sure that she would interpret them as just that. Words.

As Khai turned round to see Scully, Mulder fixed a stare at her, hoping to God her common sense would tell her why he was doing this.

"What now?" Khai asked, as if she hadn't really believed this moment could happen. Like she hadn't planned her next move.

"We should go away. People here like Scully. They wont like you because you're taking her place."

"I get rid of her." She stood up, moving over to the body slumped against the wall.

"No!" he shouted. She jumped round in surprise. "No, you can't do that. We can just go away."

She headed back towards him. "No," she said firmly. "We need to get rid of her."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

As Khai headed for her, Scully dropped down, clawing at the deep carpet. She willed useless legs to kick herself along the floor, to put distance between them. As she felt herself being hauled back toward the bathroom, she heard Mulder again.

"Khai! Come here for a minute!" Her adoration for Mulder seemed to be her only undoing, as she went over and dropped back to his side. "Khai, come here." He motioned with his head. "Please untie me. My arms hurt." She seemed wary of him now; he'd have to prove himself. He moved his face closer to hers, catching her lips between his. "Please, Khai. Let me go and I can help you. I love you too." Her face lit up as she kissed him again, this time deeply.

Although he didn't return the kiss, Scully felt pangs of anger and jealousy rise inside her. She marvelled at the fact that now Khai was untying him though. She was a strange mixture of determination and naivety. As she untied Mulder, she watched his face, his brain obviously whirring with anticipation. It was then that she saw the knife, shining in the waistband of her jeans. As Mulder lurched forward she tried to cry out but her voice failed her. But then he surprised her. He didn't fight her; he put his arms around her.

* * * * *

He'd seen the knife under her shirt. He knew from her earlier ministrations that her strength was not proportional to her size. "Khai, I'll take care of Scully. I need you to do something for me. Would you do something for me?" She nodded quickly. "Go downstairs and make some more of your water. Go through the cupboards and find as many pills as you can. When the police get here we need to make it look like an accident." She gave Scully one quick glance and made her way downstairs.

He went after her, watching her go down the stairs and step over Monica's body. He rooted around for his cell phone, surmising that Khai must have taken it. As he re-entered the bedroom he fell at Scully's side. "Dana, you okay?" He held her face in his hands. "I'm so sorry, Scully. I'm so sorry for all of this. We don't have much time." She opened her eyes wide, nodding in understanding.

* * * * *

When Khai entered the bedroom, she let out a gasp. She looked Mulder up and down. He was covered in blood and drenched in water. "Are you okay?" She rushed to him, putting her hands on his chest.

"It's not my blood," he said. She looked at him now with the eyes of a child, seemingly in awe that he could carry out such a task.

"Is she…?"

"Yes." He hung his head. She went to touch him. "Khai, I need a minute. She was my wife." She retreated then as if understanding that this path they had chosen would be fraught with such guilt. "Let's go pack up your things," he said, guiding her out onto the landing. "Where's Monica?" he asked suddenly concerned.

"I take her in kitchen, in case somebody see her," she answered dutifully.

* * * * *

Once inside her room, he saw the small collection of his belongings on her dresser. "Pack up your things and I'll pack mine. Once we're done I'll call the police. " She seemed apprehensive at the thought. "Don't worry; we'll be far away. Have you seen my cell phone? I need it to call the police." She nodded and reached into her pocket to retrieve it and hand it to him. As he left the room, he closed the door, quietly moving into the living room and sliding a small wooden chair under the handle. It wouldn't hold her for long, but it would certainly give them a fighting chance. He rushed back up the stairs, turning right instead of left. He opened the door to the small bedroom, holding his arms out as Scully rushed toward him, obviously abhorred by the state of him.

"Mulder, you're bleeding?"

"It's nothing," he said. "She needed to believe you were dead. Now Monica has disappeared. I can't understand how we missed this. Her strength is unbelievable. I don't want to fight her, Scully. I think that could get us into more trouble. She's got my gun, too, and she's not relinquishing it. It's easier if we can keep fooling her. It's safer for you, too. If she thinks you're no threat she's less likely to hurt you." A smile flashed across Scully's face. She still seemed incredibly vulnerable as she slurred her words.

"What?" Mulder breathed, sitting beside her on the bed.

"Nothing, just thinking back to our conversation the night before she arrived." He was still confused. "I guess you are in the desirable category, Mulder."

He breathed out into the silence, neither of them laughing, but both appreciating the irony. "I need to get us out of here. I'll try Skinner again but if she hears me, it's game over. I won't win her trust again."

Relief washed over him as Skinner answered. He whispered into the phone, telling him to get to the house immediately and that Khai was armed and dangerous. He'd heard the scoffing noises Skinner made. God, it would have made him laugh under different circumstances. They sat in silence, the helplessness of their situation almost comical. A tiny Thai girl with the strength of ten grown men was holding them hostage. Making a run for it was out of the question, Scully still being so weak. Soon they could hear her cries.

"Mulder, where are you going?" Scully grabbed his T-shirt as he rose off the bed.

"I think she's out. If she goes into the bathroom and finds you're not there, she'll know. If she finds me in here, she'll know too."

"Mulder, you locked her up; either way she's not going to trust you again."

"But as long as she thinks you're dead I don't have to worry about you." He'd instructed Skinner to bring an ambulance, explaining how he'd found Monica at the bottom of the stairs. He stood to leave. "If you hear anything, lie the other side of the bed – she won't be able to hear you." With that he left, uncertain of what his next move might be.

* * * * *

He could hear her moving around downstairs. He surveyed their bedroom and then the bathroom for any weapon of defence. He'd almost resided himself to the fact that short of severing a limb, she would be pretty unstoppable. He heard loud banging noises, crashing thumping of furniture. As he peered over the balcony she shot into view, her eyes meeting his, fixing them. She was so fast. She took two or three steps at a time in her bid to reach him before he had time to escape. Now was the difficult decision and not a lot of time to make it. If he escaped into the big bedroom, he locked Scully out; if he went to where she hid, he exposed her. The gun was cocked in his direction as she reached the top of the stairs. He could think of only one thing to do. As she reached the top of the stairs, he launched himself onto her, knocking her over the top step and bringing himself down with her. He felt his head knock against the steps as they took it in turns to soften the blow of their bodies thudding down the stairs. Soon he was flying across the carpet, his body twisting over and over as he shoved his hands in front of him, hoping to save himself.

* * * * *

"Mulder!" she yelled, jumping off the bed and onto shaky legs that let her down almost immediately. She had heard the commotion coming from outside and now felt desperate to get to Mulder. What if he was injured? Or dead? She heard footsteps thundering toward her and for a moment thought of Mulder returning to her, the nightmare over. She pulled herself together, ready to breathe a sigh of relief. Then a most unwelcome shadow had fallen across her.

Her whole chest felt like an iron box was pressing on it. Khai had straddled her almost straight away, hitting her viciously with the barrel of the gun. Her strength sapped, it was all she could do to put her arms over her face, attempting to roll away from the lashes. It was if it wasn't enough to kill her – she had to torture her first. For a moment she stood, allowing Scully to scurry away towards the door. As she stood, she cocked the gun, aiming down toward her. As Scully put her hands to her face, she closed her eyes. On hearing the shot she tensed, her brain scanning her senses to detect where the bullet had hit. She felt nothing. Another shot; again, no pain except the heavy thud of a dead weight smacking against her tiny frame. The impact had knocked the breath out of her, making her lungs tight.

"Scully. Scully, can you hear me?" Skinner's voice floated into her head. "Scully, there's an ambulance outside. I'm not going to move you; I'm going to wait for them to move you."

* * * * *

She watched him carefully, the beeping of the machines behind her keeping her company, telling her all was well. She let her hand rake over the wiry hairs of his chest, memorised by his breathing. The shot had been a near replica of the one she had placed in his shoulder all those years ago. She could hardly believe she was still sitting here with him now after listening to Skinner's narration of events. He had arrived to see Mulder at the top of the stairs. He had seen him enter, and seemingly launched himself into the room before collapsing backwards. Skinner had shot at Khai on instinct, knowing where her next target would be. He stirred then.

"Mulder? Mulder, can you hear me?"

He turned to face her, opening his eyes slowly. "Oh Christ, Scully. I thought you were dead."

"Sorry to disappoint," she answered, causing him to grin and then wince as his hand tightened around hers.

"What happened?" he asked, attempting to shift himself upward.

"She shot you in the shoulder. She was aiming for me but you took her by surprise. Skinner shot her."

"Oh," he said, closing his eyes again and releasing another huge breath. "How's Monica?"

"She's fine, Mulder. She had a good concussion but she'll be okay."

"How are you?" he asked, noticing her wristband.

"Oh, they admitted me to be safe. I'm fine though, thanks to you."

"Hardly." He released her hand and rubbed his face.

"What do you mean?"

"I should have listened to you."

"I never predicted this, Mulder."

"I should have seen the signs. But I didn't, until it was almost too late." She looked away from him, wishing he knew that she didn't blame him. "You look so tired, Scully."

"Thanks." She raised her eyebrows at him, hoping she could lighten the tone. She should have known that was more his thing than hers.

"You know what I mean, Scully. You've been through so much that could have been avoided."

"How? Mulder, she had everybody fooled. I don't blame you for this and I don't blame you for other things either."

He understood what she meant, his mind flashing guiltily back to those moments with Khai.

"I wanted to save you. I needed to."

She motioned to the patch on his shoulder. "You did save me, Mulder." She bowed her head slightly to hide the flurry of emotion that planned to overtake her. "You always do." Moving his good arm as much as he could, he pulled her to him.


	19. EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

The knock at the door roused her from sleep. Go away, she thought. Go away; this is the first time in weeks I've been able to sleep like this. Movement underneath her head and shoulders caused her to awaken more fully.

"I'm expecting Skinner." Mulder pushed himself of the sofa, gently nudging her shoulder so that she could sit up. "He says he wants to verify our statements before they start to deal with Khai through official channels."

She sat taller, quickly running fingers through her hair in an effort to look half presentable. Her stomach flipped over when she realised she was in her shorts and tank top, covered only by a silk dressing gown. It was only five in the afternoon, but the fact that Mulder had been released today meant that neither of them felt like doing anything besides unwinding. Khai's room had been emptied by the forensic team, although Scully herself couldn't wait to disinfect her from their lives.

Skinner entered, taking a seat in the arm chair in the corner of the room. "How are you both?" He asked, out of courtesy but she could tell the sentiment was also there.

"We're okay." Mulder sat down next to Scully again, careful not to bump his shoulder. "What are they doing with Khai?" He instantly regretted asking, but there was no point in skirting around the issue when it was the reason for Skinner's visit.

"We can't prove anything Mulder. We can't prove that she killed the other girls, or Jenson's gang. They can only prove that she was the last person to see Jenson alive. We found the same strange substance in her room that forensics are keen on analysing further. If she has a lawyer they will argue that she brought the substance out of the warehouse accidentally."

"What was the substance identified as?" Scully asked.

"Flunitrazepam." Skinner started.

"Why does that sound familiar?" Mulder asked.

"It's another name for Rohypnol, the date rape drug." Scully interrupted.

"Could that be responsible for the behaviour of Jenson's gang and the girls from the warehouse?" He was careful not to bring Scully's actions into the conversation.

"No. Flunitrazepam acts as a relaxant and sedative. It's actually marketed as the hypnotic drug in some countries."

"Hypnotic?" Mulder asked, sitting straighter now.

"Yes," Scully continued, half guessing where he might go next. "you think Khai hypnotised people into hurting themselves?"

"I think it's possible. We both no what a traumatic time she went through after her husband died. Maybe her kidnap was a trigger. She would only need to expose victims to the substance before the suggestibility to take place. That would explain how she got the women to injure themselves and the men to injure each other. It would also explain why you became ill within days of eating the meals that she prepared for you and the water she gave you afterwards. Who knows what else she put in your food Scully. For all we know she caused your internal bleeding too. The girls at the warehouse were all suffering from benign tumours." He shuddered now at the thought that Scully could still be a victim.

"I know Mulder. Skinner talked to me in the hospital. I'm fine. Whatever she gave the girls, she didn't give me enough to make me that sick. Listen to what I'm saying! Mulder this isn't possible."

"Scully the side effects of a Pituitary microadenoma are headaches, vomiting, vision problems and dizziness. You suffered from all of that and I imagine the girls did too."

Skinner stood, sensing that this could develop into a longer argument. "I don't know what will happen to Khai, although she will be deported I know that's definite.

Scully said goodbye to Skinner, then made her way down the hall into the room that Khai had inhabited. Forensics had taken all of her things, leaving the room as bare as the day before she moved in. Rage enveloped her, as she tore the bedclothes away. Each layer she stripped away more reverently than the last. What right had this woman! What right had she to come into their home and tear there lives apart. She began to scream. Not a girly, lasting scream, but one of anger and passion. As she reached the mattress, she grabbed it with both hands, trying to tip it over. A pair of hands landed on her forearms and spun her round. Her face buried in his chest, she fought tears.

"I hate her Mulder. I want her punished. I hate her for what she tried to do to us."

"Me too," He stroked the back of her hair. "I hate what she did to you, I hate how she made you feel and I hate how she made you think."

She pulled away from him, so she would be able to look him in the eye as he spoke. "How could you think those things Scully? How could you think those things, about me, about yourself? You want to know why I can so easily believe that Khai caused you to act like this? It's because I can't imagine you doing it of your own free will . . ."

"But before, in the hospital . . ." She pulled away from him now.

"I thought the worst. Probably because then nothing else would hurt me more. It's stupid I know."

She sighed loudly. "No, I understand I think. I haven't really considered how this has affected you. I started to think you were blaming me, and that you resented me."

"For what?"

She only had to look at him to give him the answer.  
William.

"Do you really believe that Scully?" When she fell silent he interrupted her thoughts. "Because it's not true Scully. It isn't. I thought we were past this. Hell, we WERE passed this." He took her hand and led her out of the room and down the hall.

"Where are we going?" She asked, trailing behind him.  
He went into the kitchen and emerged with a white box.

"What is it?" She asked, getting her nail underneath the film that held the box shut. As she opened it he explained.

" That first night that Khai stayed with us, before you got sick. . ." He started, and her mind flitted back to the last time they'd really made love, save for the drunken scramble after Carter's party. She was pretty sure that didn't count too.

She opened the box to find a black slip, not dissimilar to the one she'd found in Khai's room.  
This one, however, was far more elaborate and she guessed expensive.

"Mulder I don't understand . . ."

"I went out the next day and got you this, but there never seemed a good time to give it to you.  
I wanted to tell you that you were wrong. My feelings for you haven't changed and I don't think those awful things that you said about yourself that night.  
There never seemed to be the right time to give it to you. With everything that happened, I didn't want to push you before you were ready." She realised what he was saying. He didn't just mean the physical part of their relationship. These thoughts that Khai had brought to the surface were there all along, but she had to let go.

She stared at the black slip that she held in her left hand, then took his hand with the other.

"I'm ready Mulder." She led him upstairs.


End file.
